Davina glared at her friends, who were laughing hysterically from the table. She didn't know where Madeline had went -- if she'd seen this go down, she'd probably tell the DJ that Price was a lunatic and Davina had a restraining order on him. It probably would have pissed her off, but right now, she was praying for it.
"Sorry," Davina whispered, grateful that the odd mixture of colored lights on them wouldn't show how red her face was. Of all people -- and all songs. She wondered what she'd done wrong that the karma gods were punishing her so hard.
As the song started playing, she started singing, determined not to sound like as big of a tool as she felt. Sounding bad was even more punishment she didn't want to deal with. But as her and Price's respective tables started cheering for them -- and, subsequently, the rest of the bar -- she realized she was actually... enjoying herself. Singing with Price was always something special, and although this wasn't her front porch with his guitar, it was... comfortable.