Most of the men didn't look her in the face. Most of them. When a pair of eyes caught hers, and held them, she paused, a slight frown forming on her lips. Was that? It couldn't be. It fucking couldn't be. And yet it was. Even at a distance, he was unmistakable, and just behind him, looming over everyone else as he always did, was his brother. She'd been here a week, that was all, and she'd already been found. Found by two of the people she least wanted to see, no less. Everyone in the demon world knew Crowley had them by the short hairs of late, and if they were here, she knew it didn't bode well for her. The talker shot her an annoyed glance to get her moving again, but she ignored him. Fighting panic, she weighed her options. She could ditch her meatsuit, right there on the platform, but if Crowley had sent them after her, he'd be able to track her the minute she hit the air. Her only chance at avoiding that asshole was to stay exactly where she was and deal with his puppets.
They'd come for her, she knew, the minute the show ended. They wouldn't come after her in the tent, there'd be too many witnesses. But afterwards...that would be fair game.
The talker had finished his wind up, getting more and more frustrated with her as she merely stood there, looking a bit godsmacked. But, whatever the case, her body did it's job and got those asses into the tent. They filed in, looking expectant and, though she knew for a human woman it might have been dangerous to do so, she slid into their mass. Her outfit would make her stand out, she knew, but running away was always her best line of defense, and she wasn't about to waste whatever opportunity she had. If they expected her to wait for the witnesses to go home for the night so they could kill her nice and quiet, fat chance. She was running, and she was running now. As she got close to the tent flap, she slid around the corner, hoping the press of bodies and dark shadows would hide her long enough to get out of sight.