It didn’t take long at all for the party to settle into something we would all regret for a very long time. By a quarter of nine I was the only one left who could still stand upright unassisted. Most of the cops had camped out by the fountain in a grim clot of rapidly bending elbows. Angel-no-relation was lying under the table sound asleep with a smile on his face. His pants were gone and someone had shaved a bare streak down the center of his head.

Things being as they were, I thought this would be an ideal time to slip outside undetected to see if Sergeant Doakes had arrived yet. As it turned out, however, I was wrong. I had taken no more than two steps toward the door when a great weight came down on me from behind. I spun around quickly to find that Camilla Figg was attempting to drape herself across my back. Hi, she said with a very bright and somewhat slurred smile.

Hello, I said cheerfully. Can I get you a drink?

She frowned at me. Don’t need drink. Jus wanna say hello. She frowned harder. Jeez Christ you’re cute, she said. Always wand to tell you that.

Well, the poor thing was obviously drunk, but even so— Cute? Me? I suppose too much alcohol can blur the sight, but come on—what could possibly be cute about someone who would rather cut you open than shake your hand? And in any case, I was already way over my limit for women with one, Rita. As far as I could recall, Camilla and I had rarely said more than three words to each other. She had never before mentioned my alleged cuteness. She had seemed to avoid me, in fact, preferring to blush and look away rather than say a simple good morning. And now she was practically raping me. Did that make sense?

In any case, I had no time to waste on deciphering human behavior. Thank you very much, I said as I tried to undrape Camilla without causing any serious injuries to either of us. She had locked her hands around my neck and I pried at them, but she clung like a barnacle. I think you need some fresh air, Camilla, I said, hoping that she might take the hint and wander away out back. Instead she lunged closer, mashing her face against mine as I frantically backpedaled away.

I’ll take my fresh air right here, she said. She squeezed her lips into a pouty kissy-face and pushed me back until I bumped into a chair and nearly fell over.

Ah—would you like to sit down? I asked hopefully.

No, she said, pulling me downward toward her face with what felt like at least twice her actual weight, I would like to screw.