The crowd continues to riot around us as if nothing else in the world matters but beating your head up and down to your own rhythm cause there's no way the beat of the drums could be so...unorganized. Just looking at some of them makes my head hurt. I've been in many of these kinds of settings, from the goth clubs where everyone wears more black makeup than Kiss to the underground hideaways where mortal humans pretend to be members of the undead. It was always entertaining to find the lips puckered with plastic fangs hanging out like a very unattractive overbite and the ketchup portraying blood soaking their cheeks. Not even a newborn can be so messy.

It doesn't hurt the taste of their blood though. If anything, the ketchup adds a little more flavor.

I'm not much for the music but it's not like I was ever paying attention to it in the first place. My straying eyes are only for the crowd, looking for strays. I'm looking for that shy girl playing rock junkie who would die at the chance to be escorted to a dark corner somewhere with a mysterious stranger. I'm looking for the real junkie who needs to sneak off and smoke a joint or snort coke somewhere where prying eyes aren't watching. I hardly noticed anything until that little punk of a pickpocket slipped into my vision. I almost let him get away with it just to see what would happen but something about the redhead gained my intrigue.

Maybe it's the fact that she's standing alone in a sea of rock heads. Maybe it's the fact that unlike the other girls, she's not dressed all in black with more makeup than Madonna and less clothes on than Miley Cyrus. I have yet to see her throw her fist up in a hell yeah or watch her fiery hair tangle in the wind during an extremely satisfying head banging routine. Despite all the chaos around her, the mystery girl stays strangely sedate, as if she's here but at the same time she's a million miles away. Like she could be standing here and be perfectly content like she's standing in a meadow in the countryside. Her hair flows so nicely around her shoulders. It's not held tight by gunks of styling gel and hair spray. It makes me want to run my fingers through it.

I hold the wallet out and she turns to me with gratitude sparkling in clear blue eyes. The innocence is almost overwhelming. She probably thinks I'm a nice guy here to hang out with friends and enjoy the show and I've just performed my eleventh good deed of the day. Luckily for her, she doesn't know me so she can't be woefully disappointed. I smirk at her comment.

"We wouldn't want that now would we?"

My eyes sparkle with mischief, something which only escalates in my thoughts as she takes her lower lip between her teeth. I've always liked that habit in a woman. I don't get a chance to harass her further however cause then a familiar stench hits my nose and a tall figure suddenly stands beside the redhead, his protective stance already managing to irritate me. How ill timed for him. At his question, I lift my brow, giving him a dismissive look. Such a pest, these dark hunters. Always getting in the way of a good time.

The redhead gives a reply and I grin at the boy, my eyes twinkling with laughter. Take that and shove it. My eyes flick to his hand though. It's in motion, moving to his back pocket and we both know what's in it. Our gazes lock and I know what's going to happen unless I do something. He's going to try to kill me right here and I'm going to have to defend myself and compromise my identity. I wasn't really looking to be pitted on a stake tonight so I think I'll find a distraction instead. Glancing around, an idea comes to me and I step forward, reaching around to break the boy's wrist with a simply flick though I hide it in the jest that I'm lifting him up.

The people around us catch on and before he even has time to gasp in pain from the break, I have him up and traveling toward the stage. Crowd surfing, as they call it. He glares at me over their heads until he disappears. I plan on being long gone before he gets back to this spot. I glance back at the girl with a mischievous smirk and shrug.

"He looked like he needed to lighten up."

I study her pretty features, wondering if I'm ready to walk off and leave her to her fate just yet. I guess it wouldn't hurt.

"As a reward for returning your wallet, I think the least you can do is allow me to buy you a hotdog. Or a cheeseburger, your choice. That's your only two choices though, I'm not much for options."

I grin, letting her know it's a joke, but at the same time, I know we need to get away from this stage before Sir Party Pooper returns.