Just as you're preparing to jump, you catch wind of what the girl is doing now. She's suddenly steering away from the food table, and for a second you wonder if youmisjudged where she was headed. Soon, though, it becomes apparent that she's about to remove her jacket before she ate or danced. The girl's colossal, manicured hand suddenly fills your view as it swings by yoiur pocket, fingers clasping the jacket's zipper. The harsh grinding noise of the zipper is heavily amplified in your tiny, sensitive eardrums.
When the terrible noise is finished, and you can safely pull your hands from your ears, you realize you only have a matter of seconds to prepare for the jacket's deposition. Seeing no stake in trying to dive off at this point, you merely dig yourself into the pocket in a ball, holding onto its inner lining for dear life. If you could just ride this out, your survival chances might not be so bad. After some shuffling and a final thump as the jacket was put down, you emerge from your "bunker" and look around at these new surroundings.
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