Methe had slipped into the crowd a few hours ago, twisting and writhing among all the beautiful people. She was feeding off their energy, as well as her father's, and it always made her feel so alive.
Eventually, she did need to extract herself from the mass of bodies and make her way to the bar. Her face was flushed and her hair was wild, she knew she had to look like a Maenad. Which suited her just fine. She dropped onto a stool and tried to catch the attention of the bartender. Gods, she was thirsty.