Champagne in her left hand, Deborah pointed with her right, laughing at Angela as she blabbered on and on about all her latest research.

"Lighten up, my little angel, lighten up!" she cried, too loudly. "This is a dancehall, not a study hall!"

"Oh… Sorry…" Angela's confidence evaporated in less than a second.

Deborah laughed again, just as loud and obnoxious as before, but what she said this time gave Angela pause. "You're as cute as button!"

"Wh—what?" Angela still looked flustered, but this time, for different reasons. Deborah only laughed even harder at her silly expression, but when Angela stayed silent, waiting for Deborah to go back to the "cute as a button" remark, Deborah's laughter died off.

The singer was vaguely aware that she just made everything awkward, but she couldn't even remember how or why. All she knew was that Angela was staring at her, and it made her face flush. Drunk though she was, Deborah managed to slur out some vague excuse before gliding away into the crowd, leaving a very puzzled Angela in her wake.

Ambrose was somewhere in this crowd, too, Deborah knew, but she had no idea where exactly. It was unfortunate, she could've used the distraction. She swung her head back over her shoulder. Angela was still right where Deborah left her, but she'd already started chatting up another party guest. Another party guest. Deborah's hand tightened around her champagne glass. Another party guest.

How could Angela be so calm and cool and collected? Despite claiming to be shy and anxious, guests kept walking up to her and she kept talking to them. All of them. Ordinarily, Deborah would've been happy to see Angela socialize more, but right now?

It makes me hate you so much. And you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong…

Speaking of strong, she needed a stronger drink. Champagne just wouldn't do anymore.

Deborah managed to find a mini bar on the far side of the dancehall. She barely even looked at the bartender as she gave him her order and her money. "Whiskey on ice."

The bartender smirked at her. He recognized her, but even more importantly, he recognized that troubled look in her eye. He, wisely, chose not to address it. Instead, he only turned away to prepare Deborah's drink. Left in silence, she let her gaze wander the bar. Soft, golden lights hung over her head and grapevines twisted around the shelves of alcohol.

Once Deborah had her drink, she thoughtlessly cast a glance to the side. As cruel fate would have it, who should she see out of the corner of her eye but Angela Jekyll? She was still locked in conversation, but this time, with yet another party guest. That damn doctor! What did she think she was doing?! Deborah wasn't sure what made her angrier: the idea that Angela did know what she was doing, or the idea that she didn't. In any case, Deborah clenched her glass again. It would be so easy for her to utterly destroy Angela's life for this little stunt! But… it would be nicer if…

I'd ruin your life… So why not be in mine?

Angela was just so gorgeous, in her own way, but gorgeous, nonetheless. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that Deborah found herself increasingly tongue-tied around the young doctor. Ever since the party on the boat, the two had grown closer and closer, but now things felt… different. It made Deborah want to throw her hands up in exasperation and defeat, but as much as her fury begged her to, all she had to do was look at Angela's face and the anger would just melt away. But what could she say? She was always a sucker for the cute ones.

Taking a big swig of her drink, Deborah ignored the burn the same way she ignored Angela… and the new party guest she was talking to.

"Stupid girl, probably isn't even paying any attention to the actual gala!" Deborah complained to her whiskey. She didn't seem to realize that she was in the exact same boat. Deborah was only half right anyway. It was true that Angela was too distracted to really pay any attention to any of the spectacle going on around her, but it was wrong to think that she was completely unaware…

Angela may have looked like she was talking to everyone there but Deborah, but that was because she couldn't keep a conversation going with anyone who wasn't Deborah. She flitted from person to person, boring them off with all of her science-talk. Whether it was nerves, or an active choice to discuss only the most boring parts of her work, Angela subtly rebuffed everyone that tried to approach her.

There's only one person in this entire gala that I feel comfortable talking to for long periods of time, and now she's gone and left me!

But though part of Angela was hurt that Deborah had departed so suddenly and unceremoniously, she couldn't stop replaying all the events that led up to that moment. This gala was just another aristocratic party that Deborah invited Angela to, and Angela only agreed to go because it was Deborah who invited her. For a time, they chatted pleasantly, Deborah swiping a few golden champagne flutes off a passing silver platter. After a while, though, the intoxication kicked in.

"It's insane in the brain, Angela! The kind of work you do! Haha, get it?!" she cried, leaning towards Angela until their hands accidentally brushed together. Deborah didn't even seem to notice, but Angela felt as if an electric current had just shot through her entire arm.

You should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a shining room…

Angela could still feel that touch burned into her skin. She stared after where Deborah had gone, only half aware of the next, handsome young suit that came over to talk to her. She automatically launched into a spiel about neural receptors and pathways and, before long, the young suit melted back into the crowd. Good. Angela hadn't been in the mood to chat anyway. But, speaking of handsome young suits…

If you got a boyfriend, it's a small wonder. But if you're single, that's honestly worse. Cause you're so gorgeous, it actually hurts. Deborah, it hurts.

As far as Angela knew, Deborah was single. Despite her fears, Deborah and Ambrose were not actually a couple. Deborah had tried several times before, hence why she was so protective of him and, at the start, jealous of Angela, but it wasn't official. He'd always politely declined, saying he was fond of her, but not necessarily in that way. Maybe with more time, though… But then after Deborah met Angela properly, the object of her interest changed. Deborah still loved Ambrose, but now she was starting to have eyes for Angela, too.

After Deborah accidentally brushed Angela's hand, Angela looked into her eyes in surprise. That was her second big mistake.

Ocean-blue eyes, looking in mine… I feel like I might… sink and drown and die!

If only she'd known, Deborah was just as struck by Angela's bright sky-blue eyes… I feel like I might… jump then fall then fly!

Angela finally caught a glimpse of Deborah leaving the bar. She was too far away for Angela to call out to her, and she was moving so swiftly that Angela knew she'd never catch up, but that didn't mean Angela couldn't still watch her go. Maybe this was for the best. If she couldn't even bring herself to say anything to Deborah's face, then maybe it was good that Deborah had taken leave of her.

Sure, they'd engaged in idle chatter earlier, but even that felt performative on Angela's part. That wasn't to say she'd only humored Deborah out of a sense of kindness. It was just that although she may have talked smoothly, she certainly hadn't felt that way. She hated herself for being so cowardly. She just could not understand why Deborah was suddenly making her feel this way. It didn't used to be like this!

You're so gorgeous! I can't say anything to your face, cause look at your face! Gorgeous!

But, spurred on by a sudden burst of motivation despite her prior worries, Angela pushed through the crowd, hoping to catch another peek of the elusive Ms. Lavish. When she finally found the singer, she was dismayed to see her chatting with Ambrose. It wasn't the conversation that cut Angela to the bone, though. It was the idea that while Deborah didn't want to hang around her, she clearly didn't mind talking to Ambrose. Ouch.

The pain in Angela's heart felt… angry, and sad. It was a foreign feeling for the typically-timid doctor. She even clutched her chest and winced. The second she looked back at Deborah and Ambrose, another wave of… something unpleasant surged through her heart. Angela watched them for a few seconds more before heaving a tired, resigned sigh and slowly making her way back the way she'd come.

"You just need to tell her, Deborah, she will listen, and she will understand," Ambrose's voice was convicted but gentle.

"But what if she doesn't?!" Deborah shot back. It wasn't a very clever rebuttal, but it was a possibility they did have to consider.

"Angela's been my best friend since we were both kids," Ambrose reminded the singer. "So, trust me when I say that she won't react badly."

"But what can I say? What should I say? She's so g—" Deborah only just managed to catch herself. "I just don't know how to say it to her face…"

Cause look at her face, it's gorgeous!

"Well, if my vision serves me correctly, I do believe that our darling doctor is making her way out as we speak," Ambrose wanted to offer Deborah more advice, but when he noticed Angela scurrying to the nearest exit, he realized that there wasn't much time left. "This is the perfect chance!" he insisted. "She'll be alone and it's such a lovely night!" Don't wait until it's too late, Deborah.

"But—!" What if she thinks I'm… weird? Crazy? Too forward? Clingy? What if… she says no? There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have!

It didn't help that Angela was just as kind as she was beautiful. It really was not fair! The singer even crossed her arms, already scowling at all the bad scenarios racing through her mind. A few seconds later, though, the scowl faded into a mournful and longing frown. Then, another few seconds later, Deborah's feet were suddenly carrying her through the dancehall, towards the exit.

"That's how you get the girl, Deborah!" Ambrose cheered after her, but she was already out of earshot.

At the same time, Angela was outside, sitting on the small stone wall that surrounded the dancehall. Her back was to the door, she didn't want anyone to see the tears glistening in her eyes. She managed to keep any of them from falling, but it was close. It was amazing how wonderfully happy Deborah could make her feel, and so terribly sad, too. Right now, she was feeling terrible.

You've ruined my life by not being mine!

And not for the first time did Angela curse Deborah's beauty. It wasn't just petty jealousy this time, though. She just hated thinking about how out of her league Deborah was. She hated thinking about how many suitors Deborah probably got on a daily basis. If only Angela could've been more gorgeous, maybe she would've had more of a chance. Why did Deborah have to be so gorgeous, though?! It was hardly fair.

"Angela?"

Angela shrieked and nearly fell off the wall. Luckily, even if she'd fallen, it was only a one-foot drop. She felt Deborah grab her elbows to stop her. The singer had lunged the second Angela started to fall.

You should think about the consequence of you touching my hand under a silver moon…

"Thanks," Angela muttered, ripping her arms awkwardly out of Deborah's. Deborah looked surprised, and maybe even a little hurt, but she chose to overlook it in favor of trying to start up a casual conversation with the other woman.

"What brings you out here?"

"Just needed some fresh air, the dancehall was getting a little stuffy." Angela didn't sound truthful, but it was too credible a lie to challenge.

"Yeah, it wasn't as fun as I thought it would be," Deborah admitted, subdued. Then an idea came to her. "Guess I'll just stumble on home through the back… Alone." Then she waited for Angela to take the hint.

"Yeah, I might head out, too. I'm tired and I've got a lot of research to do tomorrow, just like always."

Deborah made a noise of disbelief and frustration before asking outright. "Unless you wanna come along?!"

The look Angela gave her was priceless. Her eyes already seemed large because of her spectacles, but they managed to get even larger still as Deborah extended a hand to her.

"Wh—what?"

"You heard me," Deborah replied calmly. Please don't make me say it to your face again! I don't think I can…

For a moment, Angela only stared at Deborah's hand. Deborah gave her five seconds before she started to feel nervous. Why wasn't Angela doing anything? Why wasn't she saying anything? Why was she just—?!

"All right," Angela finally took Deborah's hand and held it tight. Deborah made a choking noise, but she was able to pass it off as a cough.

"Well, shall we go now, then?" she asked. Why was her heart suddenly racing? "I can call my driver." She felt a rush of anger at Angela for making her feel this way, but when Angela's face brightened in response to what Deborah said, Deborah melted all over again.

Just look at your face… Gorgeous… But what could she say? She was always a sucker for the cute ones.

And then Deborah seemed to remember that regardless of how she was feeling at the moment, Angela had still agreed to go home with her. That realization sent Deborah's mood skyward and, suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to sing and dance the rest of the night away.

As soon as the limo arrived, she and Angela hopped in. Five minutes later, they were speeding down the highway, windows down and music up. They laughed and sang, a private party all their own, and so much better than the gala they were leaving behind.