"No, thank you," said Rain, certain that more alcohol was a terrible idea, given how giddy she already felt.
"Pft, frigid bitch," he said.
Rain's brain congratulated her in prose for spotting the poser in the crowd, when in truth she'd just feared for herself. She was feeling unbelivably drunk, and somewhat ill, and as such she stumbled towards the toilets in an awkward display of inebriation, and burst in through the door, blissfully unaware that she had instinctively walked into the men's room.
"Uh, excuse me," one of the guys said, but she had no time to wonder what he might have gone on to say, as she had thrown herself into the nearest cubical, locked the door, and fallen to her knees vomiting.
"Graceful," she said to nobody in particular, before throwing up again.
"Are you all right in there?" came a voice from outside.
"I will be," she said.
She raised one of her hands to pull her hair from her face, while the other one fell to the floor and kept a grip on her handbag. Again, her fingers felt themselves tracing the keys compulsively. She was sure that there was no nefarious reason for this other than in her mind she knew that it could help her out of tricky situations, and she was naturally afraid of losing it. She was, after all, still a girl, and would want to return to being a man at some point.
"Come on out, we'll get you some water," a gentle voice cooed.