Warm and floaty, Leto finally left the tavern where Wash had brought them. The game of pool was entertaining, and, once Leto got the hang of the rules, it was even more entertaining to throw. It was only polite; one did not beat another at his own game the first time one was shown it. And, besides, it wasn't Wash's fault that he'd never been exposed to the sense-heightening spice now permeating Leto's body. It was an unfair advantage -- and one that his fellow pilot never need know about.
The doors swung closed behind him, and Leto double-checked his step as his foot hit the curb. There was a shriek, and that had him lifting his head -- a sharp movement that the rest of his senses didn't quite follow as quickly as he would have expected.
The familiar metallic voice filtered from down the street, and Leto dropped into a run. He didn't know why there was screaming, but there was at least an Oswin close by. If she were in the middle of it, then that's where he should be, too.