Emilie smirked over at Ciaran, entirely too pleased with herself. The night was going better than she had thought-- though she hadn't thought it would end up anything like this. Something about tonight really sparked her... creative spirit.

The raver struggled in Ciaran's grasp and Emilie watched for a moment, smiling. Like a child pulling legs off an ant. Shaking herself as if having been distracted from something shiny, and searched the boy's pockets. He squirmed the whole time, squeakily protesting for her to stop.

And then she found it. A prescription bottle full of candy-looking pills that seemed to sparkle a little in the low light. Jackpot. She tutted at him, shaking the bottle of pills.

His only response was 'You're a fucking bitch', which, of course, just pissed her off and prompted a quick and unapologetic punch to his nose. Those brass knuckles with the little rosettes on them left a nasty-looking bloody imprint.