The Zen Gardens building loomed in front of them. Riley had been silent the whole way, chewing absently on her bottom lip, brow permanently furrowed in deep thought. What, exactly, had she just seen in the Great Hall? At first, it hadn't been what she'd seen, but what she'd heard and smelled. A slight scuffle, something that could have been played off as someone who had had to much to drink and stumbled against one of the buffet tables. Then there had be the simultaneous smell of freshly-spilled blood and a scream. And then sight took over in the form of a fleeing man. The blood and the scream had her back up and the Jaguar had been awakened and slipped into the driver's seat of her instincts. Someone was running, the scent of blood was tickling her nose, and that equaled prey, so she chased after the running man. She'd caught a familiar scent, something that teased and taunted just at the edge of her memory. But that was the only thing she'd caught. The guy had gotten away, cheating her of a name, a face, to put to that scent. Until later, when it hit her in a horrifying rush of remembrance. She did indeed know the guy and that knowledge cut her to the quick, a sense of betrayal and confusion tainting whatever fun and merriment could have been breathed back into the Masquerade.

Daniel hadn't been particularly talkative either, considering what she'd told him. He just kept a tight grip on Riley's hand and nodded or shook his head when spoken to.

Ryan was just walking along, glad to be out of that kind of tense room. But the silence between them all was something different. "So, a tree grows from blood? Someone was stabbed, and Riley almost got the person?" He was the curious type, he was paid to ask questions.

"Lilliana's magic made the tree grow. It was nice of her," Riley said with a quick-silver smile. "And yeah, I almost got him," she said softly, absently.

?I wasted a small fortune on this dress,? Mindy said. It was an idle observation really.

"Yes, but you look beautiful and I guarantee that there will be another opportunity to wear it," the Jaguar reassured her.

?Well hell, we are gonna have a good old fashioned, Ice Cream Social. Try to have a better night." Ryan, still wearing that mask, looked over Mindy. "It was worth it, you look good enough to eat," he told her with a feral smile.

Riley sighed softly and entered the building, glancing over to the studio to see Mr Cheung hard at work behind their shared desk. He looked up and waved at Mindy...but pointedly ignored Riley. She frowned. "Why does he hate me so much?"

"Communists don't like people in authority," Daniel said. Guess his mood was lifting.

Riley chuckled and gave the super a great big grin and happy wave. "I'm gonna change. I gotta return this dress in the morning."

?Meet at my place again then?? Mindy asked.

"Yeah, same with my suit,? Daniel added. ?Maybe it's a good thing we didn't get the guy. Can you imagine what they'd say if we brought them back with blood on the clothes?"

"Yeah," Riley chuckled and then nodded at Mindy. "Yep. I'll be up in fifteen minutes, tops."

?Right,? the diminutive blond said. ?The ice cream should get here just about the same time.?

Truth was, Bones was not bothered by whatever the evening held. He was still in his onyx black suit, white tie, and white mask. He felt like the Phantom of the Opera. He was just looking forward to some Cherry Blossom ice cream, then maybe vanilla and cinnamon...candlelight, he was drifting in thought.

Riley dashed up the stairs and slipped into her loft, leaving the door open for Daniel. He went in quickly, and closed the door behind them. The Jaguar undressed quickly, carefully hanging the dress up. Then she selected clothing at random - jeans, t-shirt, hoodie - and dressed absently, putting her shirt on backwards.

"You're shirt's backwards, pyara," Daniel said quietly, folding his suit up neatly and pulling on his usual, casual clothes.

Riley went over to her writing desk and sat down, reaching for a piece of paper and a pen. "Hmm?" she said looking up at Daniel. Then his words caught up with her and she glanced down. "Well, damn it." She slipped off her shirt and turned it around, putting it on correctly this time. Then she sat forward, writing furiously, pausing every so often to underline a word or to think of how to phrase something.

Daniel went and stood behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders and massaging the hard muscles there, trying to work away some of her tension. She sighed deeply and reached for an envelope, folding the note in half and slipping it into the envelope. She tipped her head back, looking up at him. "I need to go deliver this real quick. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Nah, it's just across the street." She stood up and pecked a quick kiss against his cheek. "Be right back." She opened the door and went out into the hallway, nearly colliding with the ice cream delivery guy. "Upstairs, 3A," she said as the guy opened his mouth to ask a question.

Daniel nodded, walking out behind her and closing the door. "I'll meet you up at Mindy's, then." He headed up the stairs, a few feet behind the ice-cream man.

"Okay, baby." She slipped downstairs and exited the building, heading across the street to one of the myriad burned-out ruins that dotted the landscape of WestEnd. "Oliver," she called out softly. "Oliver, it's Ms O'Rourke."

A small child of indeterminate age and sex poked its head out of a door-way. "You got some food?" it asked, clutching a rusty steak knife like Linus did his blanket.

Riley shook her head, causing a small thunderstorm to cross the child's face. "But, if you deliver this note like before, I'll buy you lunch tomorrow at Mr Tej's restaurant."

The child nodded and held its grubby hand out to Riley. She passed over the envelope. "Same guy as before?" the child asked, heart-breaking hazel eyes tipped up to her.

"Yes, Oliver. And see if you can give it to him at work? I'll buy dessert if you can find out for me where it is," she replied.

The hazel eyes lit up and the child eagerly nodded. Riley impulsively reached out to ruffle the mop of unruly, dirty hair, but the child jerked away, as if it expected to be hit. Riley's heart crept into her throat and she slowly pulled her hand back. "Come find me tomorrow in the Studios and we'll see about lunch...and dessert, okay?"

Oliver nodded again and then slipped back into the shadows, swallowed up by the ruined building. She sighed softly and shook her head. Wrapping her arms around herself tightly, warding off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather, she crossed the street and went up the stairs to the third floor.

((Adapted from live play. Thanks to Daniel Tej, Mindy McKnight, and Ryan Wilson.))

Riley headed to the Red Dragon after putting in an 18-hour day in the MoJ office, a notepad, law book, and pencil in hand. Pausing in the doorway before entering, she scented the air, taking a bead on the crowd. Finding no one present who might cause her to commit murder, she headed barwards immediately. There were a lot of familiar faces and she waved before slipping through the break in the counter and heading with alacrity in the general direction of beer.

John was there, the first time she'd seen him since...well, since the night of the Beltane Masquerade. He was sitting in an ancient-looking contraption and she briefly wondered what happened to his sleek, sexy wheels. She snagged a bottle of Newcastle brown ale. After uncapping the bottle, she shot the cap over John's head and directly into the bin, then settled into a lean against the counter. She glanced sidelong at John, but remained mute.

John said mildly, ?Nice shot.? That seemed to be worth another drink.

"Speaking of shots..." She turned and faced him fully now, one hand curling into a loose fist and coming to rest on her hip. She cocked her head to the side and gave him a narrow-eyed, appraising look.

He hadn't bothered with the brake. It was in such bad shape that there was no point. So every time someone squeezed past him at the bar, he was nudged a little, back and forth. ?Yeah, speaking of. Congratulations on shooting straight to the top.? His expression was every bit as mild as his tone.

A sculpted sable brow arched and the look she gave him clearly said, "Don't be obtuse." She took an oh-so-casual sip of the Newcastle, gaze still weighing heavily on him.

He matched her, putting his head to one side, matching the arch of her brow with his own. ?Something on my face??

"Egg,? she replied.

He sighed. ?Look. You sent me the note, and I slacked on getting back to you, and I'm sorry. Things are kind of shaken up right now.?

She leaned against the bar again, nodding slowly, clearly not buying the lame excuse. "Or you were too busy coming up with an alibi and defence?"

He frowned at that. ?For what? Being a slacker on meeting with you??

She cocked her head to the side again and narrowed her eyes. She took a long pull at the beer, staring at him still. "That's what you're going with?"

?Okay.? He kept his tone mild, still, but it was clearly taking some serious effort. His ale-brown eyes sharpened to a scalpel's edge, behind the glasses. ?Riley, I have no freaking idea what you're talking about.?

"Bullsh*t, John." The words were barked out, half humour, half annoyance, half anger. And half bad at fractions.

?Do we need to go talk?? There was a growl bleeding through the tenor, then.

"I think that's a wicked good idea." She slid out from behind the bar, taking care not to actually touch him as she slipped past. Still clutching the beer in one hand, she made her way to a booth far away from everyone.

He finished off the glass, cast an appeal of a look to Lucien. ?Bottle?? He mouthed to the other man. When Lucky handed it to him, John took it, added more silver to the bartop, and muttered, ?Thanks. Gonna need it, I think.?

Without waiting for John, she slid into the booth, half-full bottle of Newcastle on the table in front of her, one hand wrapped proprietorially around it, the other drumming out a tattoo with manicured nails. Her caramel gaze was still on John, though she'd smelled Daniel when he'd entered. She watched him as he went to the bar and slipped behind the counter to make his customary chai.

Crawling into the other side of the booth was more trouble than it was worth, so when John followed after her he parked it at the edge of the table. Her brows rose, a clear invitation for John to spill his guts. He took a minute, a very deliberate minute, to pour himself a fresh glass and look at her and her pretty eyes and her rage before saying, ?Okay. What's up??

"You tell me." She was calm, not angry - not yet anyway. She was, however, annoyed, confused, and feeling a tiny bit betrayed.

?Riley,? he sucked in a breath, blew it out on a flare of scotch, citrus and spice, ?I'm tired, it's late, and I really don't feel like playing games with you.?

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned forward, pitching her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry beyond the booth. "Then explain your actions at the Masquerade."