Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. Sheppard towards an appalling object in one corner. "The Beachcombers. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view. Not I.
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