Re: 8:30 ᴘᴍ :: ʀᴏʀʏ + ʀᴀꜰᴇ
"Oooh, the Proudfoot clan." Rafe leaned in conspiratorially. "Joe Proudfoot? Scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. I'm pretty sure I thought I was going to get in trouble just for breathing on Reserve property. I'm also pretty that it's not true. But this party is enough fun to be worth the gamble, either way."
He was on the verge of asking her to dance when it hit him: she was here. The impression was nothing more than that, but he knew without a doubt that it was the same she he'd Seen with his brother the day he'd been cursed. But Sam had said it was a Poacher, so why would she be here? That sense tugged at him again, and he nearly swore aloud. He had to move. Now. "I'm so sorry," he said, with a quick glance over his shoulder. "I have to—sorry, I have to go."
And then Rafe was off. He would think about trying to reform her first impression of him later, when he had time to spare brainpower for it. For now, he was winding through the crowd, the location seared into his mind and his feet instinctively knowing how to get him there. He had to get a look at her, had to know. Otherwise, why was he here?
He got there, but the sense had already faded. She was gone, and he was too late.