Something had just brushed her shoulder; was this what had happened last night to turn this entire hall into an unholy mating of calamari and temporary pressurized walkway? One hand flicked at her shoulder, but nothing was there, and the wall her nails clicked against was still wall.

And then hair, darker and thicker than her own, curled around those fingers and knotted, and something that wasn't sweat traced the curve into the small of her back as she tensed and pulled away from the wall. She grabbed the hair on her left hand with her right and tugged, trying to slide it off before clawing with both hands at the strands that were suddenly everywhere on and under her shirt.