[The fork clatters to the ground, and Clara reaches for Sarah's hand, trying not to get separated in the increasingly chaotic crowd. The nearest door is a hundred meters away at the least, past the line to the ladies' room, where a dozen guests seem to be gearing up for a fight to the death with their removed stilettos. The eerie red glow of the exit sign marks their path.]

You know- [She pauses to grab a metal tray off the bar, and hands it to Sarah.] -they say what you're doing at midnight- [Another brief stop to arm herself with a ladle from a punch bowl.] -determines what the rest of your year'll be like.

[Alright, here comes the home stretch. The Stiletto Gauntlet.]

This is probably not far off. [She tosses Sarah a slightly manic smile, and squeezes her hand.] Now run.