You stop thinking. That is the whole trick of it. Somewhere between the door and the bass settling into your ribs, everything you carried in drops at once, not in pieces, all of it, as if you decided without saying so that none of it counts in here. Not the thread from Isabella. Not the caution. Not the constant measuring of every word. For the first time in a long time you are not calculating anything, and the relief of it is almost chemical. You let the crowd pull you in. Bodies shift, hands rise, someone spins you into a loose circle and you go with it instead of resisting. You laugh, and the laugh is real, which surprises you. You dance with whoever is in front of you, not long enough to mean anything. You lose track of time, of where you came from, of the version of yourself that keeps a laptop warm like a second heartbeat. It feels like freedom. It feels like drifting from a dock you forgot to tie off. "Oi." A guy grins at you across a table lined with plastic cups, pointing like he has been watching a while. "Drinking contest. You in?" Before you can answer, a hand finds your arm. A woman, close, her voice cutting under the noise. "Or you could come dance. Properly." The room narrows to two offers and the space between them. [[Join the drinking contest|Take the cup]] --- [[Go dance with her|Take her hand instead]] --- [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Stay On The Edge|Take neither, step back]]