Elly smiled, trying not to look too jealous as Kayama and her girlfriend's Marks entwined. Her work friend bore hers on her hand, a cloud of what looked like steam that swirled and ran in a stream to the other's hand when they touched.
It looked so pretty.
"Hey, here we are!"
At eight thirty they pulled up in their rented car to the club. It was a decidedly fancy one with valet parking, and she was glad she'd dressed a bit better than she usually did. Elly got out of the car and absently scratched her arm. The new top she was wearing was itching her, possibly one of those annoying plastic bits from a tag that had slipped through but not out of the fabric. She stepped inside to the thumping bass of the music, tail twitching with the beat.
The sign outside told her which DJ was there, and Elly felt a flutter of excitement at the name. It had been a good idea to come, even if it was only to be able to dance to his mixes.
She knew she'd become separated from the couple on the huge, wildly moving dance floor. They had taken her here, but Kayama was not one to sit still at any place for long. After an hour or so she texted her friend that, yes, it was perfectly fine if the couple wanted to go to another venue. She was staying here, though. The music was incredible, the DJ mixing songs she absolutely loved into blends she couldn't leave. She danced so much she didn't realize at some point she'd pushed through close to the booth.
Elly rubbed absently at her arm again. The itch was growing irritating, and people had started to push back at her. This spot was designated to the "hottest" in the club, something she knew she was not. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going as she spun around to leave, thinking she would get a drink and rehydrate. The music had stopped being freshly mixed anyway; she could tell. A glance confirmed she was right and he wasn't there anymore. <i>Probably had to pee or god knows what these stars do at clubs</i>, she thought. She stomped a little angrily over to the bar and was about to sit down when she was jostled on her side by someone.
"Watch where you're -" She began, but a series of collective gasps and surprised cries caused her to turn her head. In passing, she noticed that her Mark was now a riot of color; besides that it had grown to cover her entire arm like a sleeve. She couldn't even begin to decipher the intricate patterns, but she saw one noticeable recurrence: music notes.
It <i>glowed</i>. It moved. It was the epitome of the dance floor, the music and the rhythmic beat, pulsing in time to the long track the DJ had put on before he left.
Elly froze, her throat closing up. Not only was this now one of the most amazing Marks she'd ever seen, her soul mate was standing directly beside her. She slowly raised her eyes, unbelieving, to see the DJ who had leaped off the platform a minute ago. He was holding his hand over his opposite arm in shock, which had a composite of colors from her design but featured her microphone prominently in the middle of his own brightly colored Mark.
"I - I left 'cause my arm was on fire," he stammered weakly. His sunglasses were pushed down over the bridge of his nose and she saw his eyes were a greenish-gold color, the pupils surrounded by concentric circles that gave them a dizzying effect. She certainly felt like passing out, anyway, and she gripped the edge of the bar tightly to stabilize herself.
"I need to sit," she said, her words coming as if from far away.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" The bartender leaned over, concerned. He glanced at the DJ and smiled, then snapped his fingers in his face. "<i>Mic</i>!"
"Hwhaa?" The man pulled himself together a little, righting his shades and rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah. Can we take one of the back rooms, Alex? I think we're gonna have to talk."
"No problem."
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