Vincent continued to run, his eyes narrowed. It was not to long after that he felt a large hand grasp around his wrist, pulling him back. Vincent, on ...nstinct, raised his other fist to punch, but his arms were crushed against his chest, long arms wrapped around them to hold them down. ‘Get the fuck off of me!’ Vincent yelled, squirming violently. ‘Why are you doing this…?’ A soothing voice spoke softly, the tone that the shorter male expected Nathan to use. He looked up, seeing Blaise staring. I tried to remember last night. My best friend Al and I had spent the night wandering from bar to bar near Fisherman's Wharf on our first night after getting to San Francisco. Al and I are both 35, and were here for a conference that was going to be more vacation than work, and we had decided to see some of the more exotic nightlife in town. I knew I had drunk too much, but I didn't feel at all like I had a hangover. I scanned the room without getting out of bed. Maybe that was it. It looked. More

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