Diana was on her way to a party. She was dolled up in her noisiest ensemble, bracelets rattling against one another, sequins clinking off of her gold gown. She would much rather have been going home, however. The whole thing was Eliot's idea. He was desperate to play her wingman and she couldn't seem to get it into his head that she'd tried the whole 'casual encounters' thing before and it just...wasn't for her.

But there was no arguing with Eliot.

Maybe there would be dancing. If nothing else, she loved the chance to dance. And Hell seemed made for parties.

It was weird.

As she hurried down the sidewalk, though, someone on the other side of the street caught the corner of her eye. For a second, her breath stopped and she felt like the world had become viscous. She was walking through the wax in a lava lamp, thick as memory. But then she turned and realized that she didn't recognize the stranger.

Weird...