Rojas impatiently paces the circumference of one of the foyers in the Sensate FestHall. A handful of other minders sit about the room on the assorted furnishings. Although there seems to be a seat to suit any taste, Rojas prefers to pace.

"What was it that tiefling said again?" he mutters to himself. "If you're out to do your job, stay put and park your ears for trouble. We'll be hipped for sure if you come in with us. That's the way it is in the FestHall. A body is supposed to find distractions inside. If you don't find one, one will find you."

And so, he had stayed behind.

He paces once again over to the curtain, his pick slapping at his thigh. Here was the place where a basher could look in on the adjoining dance hall and do their minding. The curtain clothed a window, and the window was one way, so the celebrants in the hall beyond would not be bothered by watchful eyes. Of course, there were many doors to this part of the FestHall that lead to other chambers within. And there the celebrants would be out-of- sight. And that was the way it was supposed to be.

As far as Rojas could tell, Lilah and Swan had not gone off into any of the interior rooms. Yet he cannot help himself and finds that he is often compelled to go over to the curtain to find out. The other minders clearly view this compulsion for what it is - they know he has taken more than a business interest in his charge. Sometimes there is trouble in the FestHall, but any body knows that the Sensates take care of it quicker than can any bodyguard. Rojas endures the looks of amusement of the others. He has to look. So he does.

When he pulls back the curtains he has little trouble locating Lilah and Swan. The two of them are dancing in perfect unison to what appears to be some sort of line dance. Although a few of the other celebrants try to follow their steps, they drop out one by one until it is just the two of them dancing to an obviously appreciative audience. Rojas pulls open a sound blinder beneath the window. The little shutter lets in the muted music and noise of the dance. Rojas hears a heavy drum beat and the applause of the celebrants watching Lilah and Swan. And he sees them, one with hair red in a midnight blue dress, the other with hair of gold in a white, tossing their heads, spinning, dipping their shoulders, shaking their hips and smiling with pleasure. He slips the shutter closed and yanks the curtains back in place and resumes pacing. He feels an ache inside. Ironically, it is just the type of feeling any Sensate would appreciate.

The music stops at an upbeat and Lilah and Swan hold their last position momentarily to emphasize that the line dance has ended. Applause starts to rise as many voices at once begin to call out offers, some for another dance, others for refreshment, and still others for a trip to one of the inner rooms. Swan is a bit tipsy and disoriented. She fights the momentary panic of being swept away by the oncoming tide of beings she cannot see but whose emotions she can too easily feel. Lilah is quickly there with a firm hand on her elbow.

"You have got to tell me how you do that, girlfriend," says Lilah breathlessly. She uses her free hand to hold her hair off of her heated back and neck. "I mean, I didn't do much more than explain the steps and you do them as well as me."

The crowd presses in on them with their offers, now louder than ever. Someone (or some thing) grabs Swan's other arm. She yanks it back and pushes herself into Lilah.

"Lilah, PLEASE!"

"Yeah, okay, okay. Take it easy." She lets her hair drop and puts her fingers to her lips and lets out a shrill and very loud whistle. The crowd noise sputters and dies down. There is a crash from the bandstand as the drummer, startled by the intensity of the whistle, falls over onto his cymbols. This prompts a bit of laughter.

"Thank you all for your appreciation," says Lilah, abandoning her street cant for the high-up dialect. "Your offers are most generous, but we are a bit winded. While I am sure you all have much you would like to share we have now a taste only for another round of our beverages." And then she adds the bit of cant for those with the dark on fending off a Sensate. " Perhaps another time?"

Swan relaxes as the crowd starts to thin and the band takes up the next song. Lilah gently leads her toward the edge of the dance floor and their table. A bariaur blocks their way, hoping for a change of heart. "Perhaps another time," Lilah says firmly, and he leaves with a graceful bow.

They arrive at their table. Lilah giggles.

"What?" asks Swan, settling into the chair Lilah has offerred.

"Don't put your elbows on the table. There isn't enough room here to slip an infernal in edgewise. I mean it is COVERED with drinks. I guess they liked us."

"You don't know the half of it," adds Swan.

After a moment, Lilah starts laughing at the remark, apparently finding it very funny that Swan did know exactly how much their dance was appreciated. Swan picks up a drink and nearly gags on it, spraying hard alcohol onto the table. She starts giggling and is soon adding her laughter to Lilah's . And then they continue laughing just for the pure pleasure of it.

They gradually regain their composure. Lilah picks up a cocktail and presses it gently onto Swan's hand.

"Try this. It looks more to your liking." They both stifle giggles as the uncontrolled laughter threatens to leak out.

Swan takes a sip, and finding it good, takes a long swallow. The alcohol adds to the pleasant fog of the earlier drinks. In the brief silence that follows, Swan realizes that she has long ago dropped her guard and was having a good time. A very good time. And, as is the way with alcohol, she finds her own feelings much more effusive than might otherwise be appropriate. Oh well.

"Lilah?"

"Hmmm?" asks Lilah, swirling around a tiefling drink.

"I have a confession to make," adds Swan, trying to sound serious.

"What. What is it?"

"Did you know, um <giggle> that I <tee hee> I absolutely hate your guts!" This pronouncement reignites Swan's uncontrollable laughter.

Lilah, however, is not laughing. [Oh man, I thought we were getting somewhere. What'd I do.?]

The hurt penetrates the fog in Swan's mind, and she stops, trying to sober herself to handle this properly.

"No, that is not what I meant," says Swan, trying to placate, "I meant that I had to hate you." Instinctively she tries to reach for Lilah so that she could have the added dimension of touch. She knocks over three of the drinks sending a cascade of liquid toward Lilah. Lilah leaps to her feet to keep her dress clear of the waterfalls.

"Oh dammit Swan. We were just starting to have a REALLY good time. I haven't felt this good in a devil's age. Why do you have to ruin it!!?"

Swan also gets up, knocking over more drinks as she tries to grab Lilah before she does something serious, like leave.

"Please Lilah, don't go. Wait. I didn't mean it like that," Swan's hands wave in the air like palms in the wind. They do not even get close to Lilah. Finally, having caught nothing, Swan stops struggling and sits down with resignation. She senses hurt and confusion in Lilah. They are the type of emotions that typically precede an exit.

"I guess I deserve this," sighs Swan. "I've been a total bitch. But I am sorry. Really sorry. " Swan's head turns slightly. "Lilah?"

Lilah stands silently, her brow furrowed with consternation. "I guess that is just it. You haven't been a bitch at all and I have been having a good time and now all of a sudden you turn on me?"

"I'm sorry," Swan repeats. "Sometimes I forget not everyone is an empath. Especially when I am a few sheets to the wind. I have been having a wonderful time too, even though I didn't want too, at first" She sighs. "Please Lilah, sit down and talk with me. We have lots to talk about."

Lilah thinks the offer over. She goes to an adjoining table and borrows a dry chair and sits next to Swan.

"OK. My ears are parked. Start up your bone-box."

Swan sighs again and fidgets with her dress. She turns toward Lilah, although her milky white eyes can't see her. "I like you . . . now. But I hate you too."

"Would you mind making a little more sense," asks Lilah peevishly. Apparently Swan's choice of words had not been a complete mistake.

Swan pushes her golden locks back from her face. "I like you because you're fun, and witty, and you make me forget about my cares. But I hate you because I am jealous."

Lilah looks thoroughly confused, trying to figure out why this beautiful half-elf would ever be jealous of a tiefling. "I don't understand... Why in the all the realms would you be jealous of my life. I am crapped on at every turn, no respect unless earned, trust is never given completely, treated as a monster in some places..." A memory of a cold dank dungeon cell flashes through her mind, the fear of a foreign tongue, and hateful stares. "I can't even walk around Sigil without hiding my beliefs and my face. Some basher wanting to use my hide as his latest trophy every place I visit..." Anger creeps into her emotions making the fire rage in her eyes. "It's everything I do to try and forget all of these things, every day, keep moving, trying, dancing... What do I have to be jealous of?"

Swan closes her eyes as she faces the tiefling, the strong emotions pouring forth making the direction of her companion all too evident. Images of fear, hate, anger assault her senses, painting a clear picture of the struggles the young woman endures. She wants to touch her to comfort, to console, but knows now is not the time. The anger peaks, and Lilah's words cease, leaving the question hanging in the air. Swan opens her sightless eyes, trying to form the words she found so easy before, trying to draw upon the hate, but not finding it as strong. The fog in her mind has cleared, and she wishes it back as she takes a long slow drink. "Lilah, you don't know do you..." She pauses wading through the barrage of confused feelings the tiefling's mind sends out.

Lilah looks at the woman hard, searching for her meaning, sorting through what possibly could be the source of her jealousy. The common thoughts of sight and planewalking cross her mind, but she shoves them aside, knowing that such hatred would not be so direct. Her mind flashes on what else could be the direct connection to herself and Swan who have spent so little time together. And then realization dawns.

The half-elf is about to speak when the wave of realization hits her. A fierce blush comes to her cheeks as she knows for the first time, the enemy knows her motivation. The old feelings of wanting to lash out, to tear her hair from her head, to bring a stinging slap across the tiefling's smiling little face, are no longer there.

Lilah, feels guilty, painfully so. She remembers all the times she took Killraven to the bordello to visit Swan, and how proud Killraven was when he was able to buy out Swan's contract. "You... oh... I don't know what to say..."

Swan drops her head down, not wanting Lilah to read her emotions as readily. "Now do you see why I hate you, I mean... I don't hate you anymore... but I do. Why did you take him from me?"

Lilah wants to run, knowing the pain this woman must feel, but wanting to explain, she stays. "Look, Swan, I had no idea, I didn't even know Killraven was going to get all barmy over me. I didn't ask for it, I was content in my life with my suitors coming around trying to charm me into bed. I don't even know what my feelings are for the big basher. I was happy with his overprotective friendship. I wish I would have known sooner, maybe I could have changed his feelings somehow..."

The woman senses Lilah is telling the truth, her guilt and pity flowing through her words and mind. She still wants to hate her, but the tiefling is very likeable, she can see why Killraven would be attracted to her. "Lilah, stop. You don't have to explain any more, we can't change what he holds in his heart."

Lilah stops, her head cocks to one side, and a slow smile spreads across her face, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Or maybe we can..."

Swan is thunderstruck. Of all of the reactions she had anticipated for this moment, this was not one of them. Hope for her situation springs to life like a wildfire in a dry wood.

She turns away from Lilah to avoid tipping her glee -- it would not serve any constructive purpose. She takes another pull of her drink, buying a moment to take stock of the revelations from both the words and feelings of Lilah.

Lilah and Killraven have not been together. That is certain. And Lilah's own feelings for Killraven must be very uncertain or she would not even consider conspiring to change his heart in some way. And what is more, Lilah is clearly trying hard to foster this budding friendship. Something that Swan now admits will be both a necessity and a pleasure. This is too good to be true!

Swan slowly exhales, and then turns back to her companion.

"Whatever do you have in mind, dear?" asks Swan with exagerated innocence.

She and Lilah again share a hearty laugh. And then they talk.

The ushers open the FestHall doors to the foyer and let Lilah and Swan pass. Their arms are linked and they are laughing at some private joke.

Rojas immediately feels the heat in the eyes of the other minders as they watch the pair enter the foyer. He notices with chagrin that Swan's white sheath dress has been slit high up on either thigh, apparently to allow for dancing but now simply revealing a little too much of her shapely leg. Rojas slowly turns deep crimson.

"About time!" he snarls crossly. "A body can go barmy trapped in here with the hapless sods," [this elicits some coarse laughter amongst the minders], "for all I knew you could both have been plucked and stripped like game birds by now."

The women only laugh at his consternation. They are having much to good a time to let it be ruined by a snarly basher copping an attitude.

Swan lets go of Lilah's arm and tries to point her face toward Rojas. "Come here Roj and give us your arm. If you are nice maybe we will sing for you as we walk home." [I bet that will take some of the edge off, poor sod].

Lilah cinches her leather belt (reclaimed from the check-boy) and pulls on a waist-jacket that matches her gown. It easily conceals the few pieces of equipment that she carries. As she tugs down the sleeves she feels the burning gaze of one of the minders. She glances up at him. He is a rugged-looking basher in plate mail. A double barrelled heavy crossbow is next to him. A two handed battle axe is propped between his knees. His bearded lips twist into a smile as he meets her glance.

"Do I know you?" asks Lilah, finishing her adjustments.

"Do you want to?" he replies cooley, his dark eyes not loosening.

Rojas turns to the minder, suddenly all business. He says nothing but the non-verbal communication is clear. The minder turns to Rojas and gives a slight assenting nod.

"Perhaps another time, blood?" Lilah adds, for the hundreth time that evening. The minder does nothing but broaden his crooked smile.

"Let's go," says Rojas pointedly, "this place gives me a headache."

"Where is Killraven?" asks Swan, trying her best to mask her motives from Rojas.

"He said he will be watching for us where the Lower Ward meets the Hive, and will join us there. He has no taste for this place, and I can see why."

The three of them leave the FestHall and head for the Lower Ward. There are rumers on the street of trouble in the Market Ward and they pass a few Harmonium patrols marching in quicktime in that direction. This pleases Lilah, for they pass unmolested.

Swan does sing a few songs as they walk. Her voice is light and airy and Rojas is quickly able to leave behind his foul temper. As they chat, he discovers that the tiefling is funny and very likeable, and decides he was altogether out of line with her in previous dealings. He apologizes.

Rojas may be jealous, ill-mannered, and short tempered, but he knows what he is doing. As the edge of the Lower Ward comes into view, he slows his pace, and then stops. Lilah takes a few sly looks around, but sees nothing.

"We are being followed. I can feel it," says Rojas quietly.

There is the distant cawing of a raven.

"Maybe it is just Killraven?" suggests Swan hopefully. She cannot make any sense of the jumble of emotions within range of her abilities. She does not sense the gladiator.

"Doubt it," snips Lilah, pulling off her dancing shoes. "He wouldn't be spying on us." She carefully rolls up her dress to mid thigh and tries to tuck it in place. [Why did I have to be wearing this one tonight? It is one of my favorites . . .]. "Keep going. The Bottle & Jug is just over the bridge. I'll be near."

Lilah heads for the buildings and is soon swallowed in the shadows. Rojas waits for several seconds, hoping Lilah has found some vantage point, and then continues.

"Roj?" asks Swan.

"What?"

"We are going to be all right, aren't we?"

"I've been through a million scrapes, and haven't ever lost a charge. Just let me work."

Swan clutches his left arm tightly and they continue down the narrowing street at a normal pace. For several minutes they continue walking, Swan reaching for Lilah every now and then and finding her nearby.

Swan's hand suddenly squeezes hard on Rojas' arm. It is all of the warning he needs. He hears the faint twing of a crossbow bolt, then another and another and another.

Rojas is a blur of action. He steps in front of Swan and turns so that his back is to some of the sounds. Two bolts spang off of the back of his breastplate. A third he catches in the air, inches from Swan's neck. The fourth strikes his right forearm as he raises it to block. It bounces off.

He smells a faint odor of chemical in the air. Poison?

He yanks Swan to her knees. "They are trying to capture me and kill you," she whispers. "Why?"

"Shhhh. I know what I am doing." He pulls his pick from his side and flourishes it. From the darkness he hears only a muffled groan and a thud. That would be Lilah ....

Green bolts of energy blaze from the darkness and strike him hard full in the chest. The force of the spell knocks him on his back.