Fin Fang Foom occupied a corner of the dance floor warily, watching the proceedings, alert for suspicious activity. One could never be too careful, especially in light of the warnings they had received. "Who's that talking to Sir Mumphrey?" he asked Dancer.

The athletic brunette looked up from inspecting the jukebox's playlist and peered around. "Where?" She tried to see across the crowded room, but she didn't have the dragon's height advantage. "Give me a description" she suggested.

"She's dressed in, starting from the ground up, a pair of navy-blue Chuck Taylor All-Star high-tops over a pair of argyle socks. Her pants are well-worn jeans, ripped in places. Moving up her body, she's wearing a graying black hoodie, and under it a black T-shirt. On her wrists are a few too many bracelets and a couple of wrist bands. A few of her fingers have some rings on them as well. Her black nail polish is cracked and chipped in places... She has short, sandy blond hair which is pulled back and into two small ponytails, one on each side of the back of her head. She has somewhat pale skin and is wearing a pair of black plastic glasses."

"Oh, that's one of Chad and Ronnie's friends" Dancer replied. "And may I say, what an oddly detailed description..." she added with a twinkle in her eye. "Someone certainly grabbed your attention... do I detect a crush in progress?"

"Yes! Please help!" came the muffled reply of spiffy from somewhere behind the dragon's bulk.

The Makluan sniffed and raised his massive head with dignity. "I'm a highly trained crimefighter" he informed her. "Honed observational skills are an indispensable tool of the trade."

"Naturally" the brunette agreed. "By the way..." she pointed halfway across the room to the buffet table. "You may want to take your tail out of the spinach dip."

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