Around him are tribal works, and the carefree shouts of guests. But amid them, Lokariste remains idle, by himself, staring somewhat perplexed into oblivion. One of the gentlemen of the group arrives behind him and plants his overly hairy hand firmly upon his shoulder. It is wet. In fact, he's quite soaked. Lokariste numbly removes it from his shoulder.

"C'mon, Lok. What are you pouting for? It's Friday night. Time to par-tay!"

"Not in the mood." He brings his rolling desk chair back up to his computer keyboard. "Working."

The other gentleman of like spirit sighs. "You're always working. Come on. Give yourself a break. Jesus, you've been this way ever since you got back from the bar. Anything happen?"

"Nope," he lies. "Not a thing. Place just blew up."

"Fuck!"

"Yeah. Oh, well."

"You mean it's gone? Completely? Oh my God, was anyone hurt?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I think everyone got out in time." The computer emits a sound of error and Lokariste grimaces. "Look, I really should get this done before Monday."

"Don't tell me you're gonna be at that thing all weekend. Man, that would suck. Go get laid or something."

"Not in the mood."

"You haven't been in any kind of mood for weeks, man. And when's the last time you went on a good hunt, huh?" He nudges his shoulders. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? Come on, you know it has. Come on…"

Lokariste rises suddenly from the chair, wrapping his long fingers around his friend's neck. Almost instantaneously, he lashes out with his claws in recourse. Lokariste releases him in time to avoid damage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls.

"I told you to leave me alone." Lokariste settles back into the chair. "Now, are you going to?"

"Fuck. Yeah, yeah, I'll leave you alone. Fuckin' psycho." He turns to a similarly endowed and highly scantily clad female. "Come on, Jessie."

"Wait a second." She pats him on the shoulder and then makes her way to Lokariste. "Hey, baby."

"Jessica, don't."

"What's the matter? You don't want to play with us?" She wraps her arms around his neck. "The whirlpool's nice and hot…"

Lokariste hunches his shoulder, turning to her finally. "Look, Jessica… you and I… we're good and everything… but…"

"But what?" She pauses. "Oh, I get it. You're too good for me, is that it? 'Cause you're Glasswalker and shit?"

"Don't start that."

"Fine. Look, Lok, I've wasted enough time trying to nuzzle up to you. You don't want it. You don't want me." She sighs. "Fine."

"Look… you're pure. It's… too much. It won't work. It's dangerous."

She places her hand on her hip. "Damn right I'm pure, what the hell is that supposed to mean? God, Lok, whatever happened to rebelling? Taking chances?"

"It's too risky."

"You want some kinda half-breed?" She pauses. "Or worse - a human?"

"No."

"Thank God." Silence. "So, what do you want?"

"Jessica…"

"Just not me, right? Anyone but me?"

"That's not it. Look, this isn't the time. And… you're not the one." He sighs. "Okay?"

Jessica sighs, folding her arms, shooting a glance to the doorway. "That's nice, Lok. Real nice. Real gentle. Thanks." She growls upon leaving, her long black tresses flying behind her. Lokariste sighs.

"Not tonight." He continues upon the keyboard, pleading to no one at all. "All I ask is not tonight."

The doorbell.

It might be relieving, is his first thought as he walks down the hall. In passing, he sees Jessica being comforted by the other male. He fires a sharp glare to Lokariste, and he reiterates his silent plea.

Without much thought, he places his hand upon the knob and gives it a simple turn.

"What… in the hell are you doing here?"