By the time Baxter had made it past the balcony, he had lost Lola in the crowd. But a flash of red headed for the door made it clear that his chase was not yet over. He pushed past party guest in a feverish attempt, and caught Lola by the wrist before she could even make an escape.

“Why are you following me?” Lola said breathlessly, a look of complete fear in her eyes.

“I, I don’t know, but…but I feel like I’m supposed to,” Baxter stammered, realizing what he just said sounded very ridiculous.

“Then let’s get out of here then,” Lola said looking around suspiciously, then slipping out the door, dragging Baxter, still grasping her wrist, out the door.

They ran down the hall, pushed the button for the elevator, and jumped in. Baxter let go of Lola’s wrist, and there was an obvious outline of his hand on her pale skin that he hoped would not bruise as he glanced at it.

She stood opposite from him, her arms crossed across her chest, and she stared absently at the floor.

Baxter stood nervously.