Rachel wanders into one of the guest suites. She's here with Jack but he's off chatting with someone he knows--thank goodness for being able to come with someone who doesn't expect her at his side the entire evening. She spies a couch where she can perch without interrupting any private conversations; there are people around but that corner, at least, doesn't have anyone sitting very close or speaking in low voices.

She moves toward the couch, her left hand grasping a tiny bit of the side of her red dress, to make sure she doesn't tread on the hem as she walks. (A dubious pair of plastic red horns on a headband, meant to be devil's horns, turn this very nice dress into a costume. Shut up, they do.)

She plops down unceremoniously with a relieved sigh, and she bends to slip off a high-heeled shoe. She doesn't wear them very often and so far tonight has been an exercise in whoa these suck and don't fall over.

She shifts to slide the other one off, and she sets them together on the carpet, mashing her toes into the soft pile to try to return some feeling to them.