Chapter Seven

Cha pter Seven

O ur magical signatures are still sizzling when Orduk returns to the office, grumbling. “I swear the council gets off on dragging out pointless meetings.”

“I feel your pain, brother. Two weeks ago, Councilman Murbank dragged a hearing on for four hours. Over stolen cheese.” Ironstorm smiles a little wearily while handing him the completed paperwork. “We just completed the last of these.”

“Excellent. Let me look them over, and I can send you on your way.” He takes the stack of papers as he sits on the other side of the desk, flipping through them quickly. “As thorough as always, sir. I will get these filed right away.” He and Ironstorm both stand and lean over the desk, clasping each other’s forearms the same way I saw the orc at the market do. After a bow to me that I awkwardly return, my leash is grabbed, and we make our way out of the building.

The park has emptied somewhat, the sun no longer high in the sky. It’ll be sunset in maybe half an hour. We walk back through the park, but when we cross the street after exiting, we don’t seem to be following the path we took here. I know we have one more stop to make but don’t know what for. Just that it may involve buying me underwear, which feels a lot more ominous than underwear has any right to.

We walk for a while, and if I wasn’t so used to walking literally every day for the last month, after a month of being stuck on a boat, I’d complain. As it is, this is pretty nice. I don’t usually get to walk around a city like this; we’re usually in and out. You spend enough time in the woods—you start to miss the sounds of other people just existing a round you.

We’re in another commercial area now, multiple orcs moving in and out of buildings, most with the doors wide open. I see a lot of bars and taverns. Big surprise: orcs like beer as much as the rest of the world. There are a few inns as well and... is that a brothel? Two tall, lean, and scantily clad orcs, one male and one female, stand outside wearing little more than black leather straps placed precariously over their more sensitive bits. The male orc catches me looking and smirks when we make eye contact, forcing me to turn away. Why are we in this part of town? I try to push the knowledge that I will be getting underwear somewhere around here to the back o f my mind.

We pass one more bar before entering the next building on our right. It’s a little larger than the clothing shop was, though with fewer shelves. Instead, there are a lot of things hanging from the walls. Some of it is clothing—I think—and a lot of the other items look like they’re made out of leather. There are tables in the corners, each holding a large, irregularly shaped rock that glows and illuminates the room. Before I can get a closer look at anything, yet another orc is coming toward us. This one matches the captain’s height, though I’d say he’s got a good 50-60 pounds on him, and not necessarily muscle. His large, dark brown beard includes a few braided strands adorned with small metallic rings, and he’s got a large one made of gold hanging from his nose. His head is shaved, and he’s got a number of markings tattooed on his arms.

“Khazak!” Another old buddy, maybe? “Been expec ting you.”

“Brull, it is good to see you friend.” The two hug their hellos. “I apologize if we are early. I wanted to make sure we got here before your usual even ing rush.”

“Nonsense. Started working right after we talked yesterday. I’ve got almost everything you need ready.” Brull turns to me. “So this is him up close. What’s his name?”

“David.” I answer for myself because I’m r ight here .

“Feisty.” He chuckles before giving me a once over. “I bet taming him is gonna be a lo t of fun.”

“I have been up to the challenge so far.” Khazak— because he can’t control what I call him in my head! —jokes to my left. “I appreciate your fitting me in on such shor t notice.”

“Always happy to help a brother.” Brull waves off the concern. “Besides, it’s not like we hadn’t talked about your plans for this sort of thing before.” What plans? “I still need to make a few adjustments. Let me get a measurement of his neck, then you can show him around the shop while I finish up. Can you take off th e collar?”

Ironstorm moves over to me and pulls out his keys, unhooking the padlock on my collar and removing it. I move my neck around once it’s free, rubbing the uncovered skin with my hand. That feels a lot better after having that thing on since yesterday. Brull steps forward, wrapping his thumb and forefinger on both hands around my neck, and again against my collarbone. It feels oddly less threatening than I ’d expect.

“Perfect. Give me just a few minutes.” The larger orc steps into a backroom, leaving the two of us alone in the front.

“He seems...nice.” Not really sure what to make of the man who just wrapped his hands around my neck. Why do I even care?

“He is an interesting friend to have, to say the least.” A hand grabs a hold of my shoulder. “Come. Let me show you around t he store.”

I’m steered toward a set of shelves. At first, I can’t really tell what’s on them. Sticks? Really thick wands? Then I see a few that have been carved a bit more intricately, the detailed veins making it apparent what they are. Fake dicks. This is a shelf of dildos. The sizes vary in both length and thickness. Most of them seem to be made of polished wood, but there are a few metal and stone ones as well. I almost reach up to touch one, because that’s gotta be cold, right? But I stop myself. Where the fuck did this or c take me?

“Brull has always been very talented with his hands. Most people expected him to put his wood and metalworking skills to use in carpentry.” Ironstorm reaches forward and picks up a thick, dark, and very detailed dick. “Personally, I find this much more int eresting.”

I open my mouth but immediately snap it shut, no idea what I could possibly say right now. My eyes go wide as the fake phallus is held aloft, almost like he’s trying to find the balance on a new weapon. He regards it for a moment longer before placing it back on the shelf.

“Brull has made a few things to my personal specifications, but there are still others I would like to pick out. See anything you like?” I shake my head no at the question, eyes still wide. “No, I suppose we do not need any of these. At least not right now.” What the fuck does that mean? “However, these... ”

He takes a step around to the other side of the shelf to look over the rest of the stock, and I follow. These are... I’m not sure what these are. They’re made of the same materials but aren’t as detailed. Just weirdly shaped. One end is bulbous, sometimes rounded, sometimes more pointed, and is connected by a thinner piece of material to a flatter, flared base almost as wide as the rest of the object. I have no idea what they are, but the fact that they’re made of the same things as the dildos has me connecting the dots.

The orc runs his hands over a few of the...whatever they are before settling on one and picking it up. It’s made of dark wood, the larger end almost the size of my wrist. The top of it—is that the top?—is oblong-shaped, sort of resembling an egg. I hear Ironstorm hum appreciatively, looking from the toy to me. He moves it to his other hand before grabbing my shoulder and walking me to our next destination. He’s buying that, isn’t he?

As he walks me to the other end of the shop, the wall we pass to our left is covered floor to ceiling in clothing. Well, clothing is generous. They look more like costumes. Shirts and jackets, colorful tights, hats and hoods—including one that looks like a very funny looking dragon. There are a few corsets and even some wigs. I don’t really need to imagine what these are for, but I’m glad we’re not stopping to lo ok closer.

The wall in front of us has more things hanging, all made of brown and black leather. They’re connected with rings of metal, and from the shape, I’d say they look like harnesses, like for a horse or dog, but much smaller. To their right are different kinds of restraints, including a pair like I wore this morning. Most of them are leather, with varying numbers of rings, some connected, some with straps to adjust. Next to them are more restraints but in metal. Things like cuffs and manacles, some that don’t look terribly nice or comfortable. I’m glad we’ve stuck with th e leather.

Next to the leather and metal restraints are tied bundles of rope, dyed in different colors. Not sure on the fabric but probably something soft and cheap, not like the climbing rope I kept in my pack. Ironstorm stops and looks over the selection, even pulling a red-colored bundle from its post on the wall. He runs his thumb over the material and hums to himself but puts it back after a moment. I let out a sigh of relief, drawing his attention and making him chuckle as he pulls me over to see the rest of the wall’s selection.

It’s more clothing, specifically underwear. At least, most of it is. I see traditional loincloths and briefs, and then... I dunno. Some look like little more than pouches with strings attached. Some look like they’re made of straps, offering little to no coverage of anything. Almost all of them are dyed, in even more colors than the rope. There are even patterns like stripes or dots or the markings of an animal’s fur. Some of it has lace, some has leather. It’s all very intricate.

“Does he sew too?” I wonder aloud, because who has the time to make all t his stuff?

“No, he does not.” I jump when the orc in question re-enters the room to answer. “What he has is a good friend that likes to make these and would prefer to remain anonymous given my c lientele.”

I don’t have a response to that, but I notice what looks like measuring tape hanging from his hand.

“Time for some more measurements, kid.” He turns to his friend, my owner. “Mind stripping him for me?” He nods to the wall behind us. “You can pick out a few pairs while I make the last few adjustments. He can try on everything together.”

I start to protest, but Ironstorm is already moving toward me with a smirk on his face. “This is happening one way or another, puppy. We have had a fairly pleasant day so far.” He takes another step in my direction. “I am hoping that can continue into the evening.”

I don’t open my mouth because I don’t have an argument. It’s not like I have experience with this. I’m not even clear on what I’m being measured for. But as they both move closer, I decide to save what little dignity I have and strip myself. I undo the top few buttons of the shirt, pulling it over my head. My actions stop the orcs in their tracks, and I untie the belt at my waist, letting my pants fall to my ankles and shaking them off in the corner behind me, dropping the shi rt on top.

“Shoes too?” I ask, arms crossed at my chest like I’m not standing naked in a store where literally anyone could walk through the door at a ny moment.

“Yeah, I need to get those sizes too. Boots won’t be ready for at least a week.” The last part isn’t s aid to me.

I kneel down to untie and remove my shoes and ratty excuses for socks, setting them next to my othe r clothes.

“Alright, c’mere.” Brull crooks a fin ger at me.

With a sigh, I step forward. He gets right to work, holding the tape in one hand as he pulls my limbs in whichever direction he needs. My arms are pulled up and out as he notes the length of them and my torso. The tape is wrapped around my chest, stomach, and waist before he moves behind me and drops to one knee. There’s a whistle, and I yelp when I receive a smack on my still -sore ass.

“Looks like someone got themselves in trouble. Not bad.” The words are again directed at Ironstorm and not me, though my skin flushes at the c ompliment.

The outside of my leg is measured (why didn’t we ask the lady at the clothing shop for any of this?) and then my legs are pushed apart. I feel his hand traveling up my inseam, but still jump when my balls are suddenly grabbed. They both laugh at that, and Brull takes his time holding my junk out of the way while he takes the measurement. After wrapping the cord around my thigh, he drops to one knee and has me lift one foot, allowing me to balance against him while he measures that too. When he’s finished, he stands and delivers another smack to my ass.

“Didn’t really need most of the stuff below the waist, but that was fun.” Brull gives me a leer when he walks back around to my front. “Alright, just a few minutes. Be right back.” He returns to his backroom once more.

“Go ahead and pick out some that you like.” Ironstorm is looking at the wall of underw ear again.

Given that he just stood there while his friend felt me up for apparently no real reason, I glare. Fine . I turn to the wall and find the only things that look like regular underwear—a white loincloth and some white briefs. Wow, these actually have elastic in the waistbands. It’s a fairly recent invention, something a group of gnomes came up with like ten years ago. Very handy for holding things like underwear and socks up—I don’t miss having to actually tie a loincloth around my waist.

That means the city does a lot more trading with the outside world than I thought. Did he downplay that when he was explaining it to me? I keep getting surprised by how much more advanced these orcs are than I expected. Than most of the world expected. They didn’t just build a city; they’ve got an entire fucking system of government—complete with boring paperwork. Hell, they have things most of us back home don’t even have, like indoor plumbing. Why are they underestimate d so much?

I shake the thoughts from my head and return to the task at hand. I can worry about how smart these orcs are when I’m not standing naked in a sex shop. I grab the plain-white undergarments, holding them to my waist since I can’t exactly tell the size. I hand him my picks and cross my arms in defiance.

“No fun at all, are you?” The orc looks down at my choices with amusement, stepping up to the wal l himself.

He browses the wall’s selection thoroughly, moreso than he did the rest of the shop. He must pick out nearly a dozen things in all sorts of colors and styles. I hold my breath when I see him stop at something pink and lacy but exhale in relief when he skips over it. Not that the rest of them will look a ny better.

“Done!” Brull rejoins us just as Ironstorm finishes. He’s carrying a small chain in one hand, while his other arm has leathers hanging over it. He hands the chain over to Ironstorm. “If you would do the hon ors, sir.”

Ironstorm holds the chain aloft, and I can see a padlock at one end. Another one. He takes a hold of the lock, looking at one side closely before flipping it and doing the same with the other, a smile on his face. “Excellent work as always, Brull.” He then looks at me and mov es closer.

“I trust this more agreeable than the strip of leather?” He holds the chain in his hand, lock on display for me to see. Strip of le ather? Oh.

“I mean, it’s still a collar,” I say flatly, displeasure clear o n my face.

“I thought you might say that, but I am afraid it cannot be helped.” I look up at him, clearly about to ask why. “ Avakesh are required by law to wear collars within the city.” Of course they are.

“What does it say?” Now that it’s closer, I can see the detail in the metalwork of the collar. The rings making up the chain are almost as small as chainmail, and they shine brightly in the shop’s light. If it weren’t a collar, I might actually like it. I can see something carved onto the lock, symbols or letters, but can’t read them.

“That is my name and address, in the event you were to get...lost.” It’s a fuckin g pet tag.

“Let me guess: my name is on the other side?” I swear if he put some fucked up pet nam e on it...

“No, though I suppose we could have it added if you’d like.” He flips the lock over in his hand to show me. It’s not writing but a drawing. Or a symbol, I guess. It’s a diagonal sword with a jagged blade, made to look like a bolt of lightning. The detail is nice, and I realize it’s a match for his tattoo. It doesn’t look bad, not really, but I still don’t want to have this thing locked aroun d my neck.

“What does it mean?” I’d like to know what I have chained around my neck at least.

“I think you would call it a family crest?” He runs his thumb over the lock. “It is the symbol of Clan I ronstorm.”

“Is that what your family is called?” Are all orc familie s “clans”?

“A long time ago.” He grabs hold of the lock in his hand, grabbing the free end of the chain collar with his other . “Ready?”

“Yes?” Not sure why he’s asking permi ssion now.

He steps forward, moving the collar over my head and laying it against the back of my neck. He meets the two ends in front, looping the lock through the chain and snapping it shut. I try to look down at it, but the short chain means I can only make out the bottom of the lock. I can certainly feel the weight around my nec k, though.

“Perfect.” The back of Ironstorm’s hand is against my chest while he runs his thumb over the lock before mo ving back.

“Here’s the key.” Brull hands over a small key before he grabs the leather hanging over his arm. “Now for the harness. Arms up, pup.”

Up close and hanging from his hands, I can see more clearly that it’s like what I saw on the walls earlier. I lift my arms wordlessly; I have no real options here. I’m naked with two large orcs blocking any path of escape and have no hope of overpowering them. The sooner I do this, the sooner I can get dressed and we can leave.

The leather slips over my head, Brull making sure my arms are going where they should. He adjusts the straps resting on my shoulders before moving down, pulling the lock of my collar up so it’s not laying under the strap across my chest. Moving around me to make sure my shoulders and back are good, he steps to the side so both orcs can admire his handwork.

Brull pulls against the straps running under my arms. “Now, he’s kinda scrawny…” Hey! “But I figure you’ll fatten him up in no time, so you can adjust these here as he fills in.”

“Your work is impeccable as always.” Ironstorm runs his hands lightly along the harness and my skin, making me shiver. Then he grabs me by the chest strap, pulls me to him, and kisses me.

“Mmmf!” I half-mumble, half-yell, not thinking straight enough to protest when his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I forgot he was goo d at that.

He growls when he releases his hold on me and pulls away. I catch my breath, my eyes locked onto his hungry face. What was that ?

A whistle to my right draws me back to my senses. I look between Brull and the open door behind him. At least this time there was only a crowd of one. “Alright, now I believe I said something about picking out underwear, did I not?” Brull grins le cherously.

“That you did my friend.” Ironstorm holds the giant wad of clothing in one hand.

“Hold on, let me grab some chairs.” Brull heads into the backroom as I am handed the pile of underwear. He returns with two stools in hand, setting them down a few feet away from me and the wall of underwear.

I sigh to myself, grabbing one of my choices and letting the others fall to the ground. At least I get to wear underwear. I bend over and step into them when a sudden “tch tch ” from my audience freezes me in my tracks and draws m y head up.

“Come on now. Give us a little show.” Brull’s request makes me stand up straight, my fist tightening around the briefs in my hand. I look from Brull to Ironstorm, clearly about to voice my di spleasure.

“It is okay, David.” Ironstorm gives a small smile, his hand waving away the order. “Just try on the underwear. No theatrics required.”

“You going soft on me?” Brull cocks an eyebrow at h is friend.

“It has been a long day, and considering it is only his second, he has performed admirably.” Same small smile. “He has earned a reprieve.”

My anger softens at his words, and I return to slipping on the first pair of underwear.

“Softy,” Brull ribs h is friend.

I pull the briefs up over my thighs. These are...comfy. Whoever sewed them sewed them well. They hug my butt nicely, which isn’t something I usually think about when buying new underwear.

“Turn around.” I glare at Brull. “Please.” That ’s better.

I do as requested. It’s not like I don’t know why they’re doing this. It feels like there’s a little more dignity in doing it on my own rather than having one of them force it. I eye the front door warily. No one else has come in yet, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The faster I am, the less chance I have of showing off to more than just these two. I hear some mumbles of approval, and once it feels like they’ve ogled me enough, I slip the pair off and quickly grab my other choice: the loincloth.

“Not bad, if not a little basic,” Brull notes as I adjust the ties at the waist. “Shows more skin than the last one.”

I turn around again, doing my best to ignore the commentary. As I turn, I look down at the underwear that still awaits me. All things Ironstorm picked out. Maybe I should have left my selections for the end. I slip the loincloth off and toss it with the briefs, turning to the unworn pile and taking a breath before grabbing whatever is on top. Let’s just get this over with. I pick up something black. There’s a pouch, but the rest just seems to be a series of straps.

“I, uh... I’m not sure how to put this on,” I admit somewhat s heepishly.

Both of the orcs make to stand, Ironstorm giving Brull a clear “what do you think you’re doing?” with his eyes, which has the larger orc laughing and backing off. He moves into my space, taking the garment from my hands and adj usting it.

“I believe this is called a jockstrap.” He holds it against my crotch so I can see which end is up. “Righ t, Brull?”

“Technically it’s a ‘jockey strap,’ something horse riders from your part of the world wear for protection,” Brull explains from his seat. “But that sounds stupid, and I figured out a much better use for ‘em.”

Ironstorm holds the underwear, showing me the waist and leg holes and letting me use his shoulder to balance myself as I step into it. He pulls the waistband up over my butt before bending over to do the same with the leg straps, settling them just under my ass. The fabric making up the straps has a nice stretch to it and my package fills the pouch in front rather nicely. That doesn’t change the fact that this thing seems to be missing a few cruc ial parts.

“There’s no ass on this.” My head is swiveled around to look at my own exp osed butt.

“That is the idea,” Ironstorm comments as his eyes rake ove r my form.

“To not be underwear?” Why wear anything at all at t his point?

“I wouldn’t say they’re not underwear,” Brull chimes in. “Your cock and balls are covered and held in place. Very useful for when you’re traveling, or fighting, or getting fucked .” I almost choke on my own spit at the last word. “Which coincidentally is also why there’s no back.”

I look down again at the “jockstrap” I’m wearing. Didn’t really consider that, but of course that’s why he wants to put me in these. He hasn’t… fucked me since yesterday, but it’s only a matter of time, right? Hopefully the next time he won’t throw me on the ground and tear my clothes off before... Fuck, I turn around, blushing at the memory and feeling my cock chub up. Not now...

Brull whistles at my on-display ass and Ironstorm returns to his seat, content that I now know what I’m doing. Thankfully the reality of the situation returns, and my cock stops trying to fill the damn pouch on this thing. I slip it off, swapping it for another in red with slightly thicker straps. It takes me a second, but I figure out how to get it on like that last one, and I quickly go through three more in green, blue, and white.

“The red looks good against his skin. That is definitely an ass made for a jock,” Brull comments to my owner. “Good choices.”

Ironstorm says nothing, though I can see him smiling at me, a combination of warmth and lust in his eyes. I remember that look when I was on my back in the arena, his weight on top of me, his skin against mine... Dammit, David. Stop it. Alright, what’s left? Still in the jockstrap, I grab the next item for my little fashion show and it’s...a dark green thong. I look down. They all are. What the hell?

“These are for women.” I can remember seeing a few server girls in taverns wearing these. And a few in other professions, if you catch m y meaning.

“That pouch look like it’s for a woman?” Brull crosses his arms.

He’s got a point; it certainly looks like it’s meant to hold a dick. That’s not a thought I ever expected to have. But the rest of this is just ... “I...”

“Need help with that one too?” Brull cracks wise, pulling another chuckle from Ironstorm and a glar e from me.

I hate this. I can feel my face—and the rest of my body—getting hot as I slip the thong up my legs. I have to adjust myself in the pouch in front, my balls completely missing the target on their own. I can’t pull the back up without that thin strip of fabric slipping right up my ass, which feels fucking weird . I feel even more exposed than I did in the thing that intentionally has no ass by design. I stand, eyes staring at the floor in front of me while they get their looks in.

“Hold on.” Ironstorm stands and walks over, reaching down to adjust the waistband on my side where it’s been twisted. His hand still on my hip, he ushers me to turn around in front of him. “Though I can tell you do not, I think you look incredible in this.” He speaks softly as his hand slides over my hip to my ass, mumbling something to himself in Orcish.

I don’t respond, not sure I have anything positive to say about something I hate. The orc returns to his seat, and I grab my next piece of poison, this one purple. At least he skipped the lace. Though there is something pink … Just not thinking about that right now. Pulling off the green, I pull on the second thong, checking the waist straps on my own this time. The strap up my ass still fe els weird.

“Very nice. Think I prefer the jocks, but the fact that you can tell he hates it makes it a little hotter.” I’m just getting he ckled now.

The next two are blue and red respectively, none of the styles really differing all that much. I’m just as exposed in each of them. But finally, we’re down to the last. I really should have saved one of the boring white ones, the pink fabric mocking me from its spot on the floor.

“Heh, figures after that woman comment he’d have a problem with pink.” I’m getting real fuckin’ sick of the peanu t gallery.

I’ll show you who has a fucking problem. Incensed at the comment, I snatch the thong off the floor. Then, after locking eyes with Brull, I pull off the blue one I’m wearing, step into the pink one and pull it up, never breaking eye contact. When I’m finished, I strike a pose, sarcasm dripping off my face. I even throw my hands up.

And of course, that’s the exact moment someone decides to walk into the store.

My arms fall to my sides, hands shooting forward to cover my clearly-visible-through-this-fabric dick. My whole body turns bright red, which only manages to bring out the pink of this thong even more. I can’t bring myself to look up, but I don’t hear anyone moving so I’m sure all eyes—especially the new ones—are on me. I just had to leave the pink for last.

“See? Feisty.” Brull laughs at his own callback.

“Quite.” In the corner of my eye, I see Ironstorm stand. “Now if you are finished riling my puppy up, it looks like you have some business to conduct.” I hear voices break into Orcish as Ironstorm moves o ver to me.

“You did very well.” He speaks low into my ear. “T hank you.”

“Can I get dressed, please?” I sound pathetic.

“Of course. Change into whichever you would prefer.” He takes a step back.

“Thank you.” I don’t exactly want to get naked again in front of another stranger, but I want to be wearing this pink thong even less. I grab the white briefs from the bottom of the pile and quickly swap them. While I grab my pants, Ironstorm picks up the pile of discarded underwear, and once I’m finished zipping up, helps pull the harness off over my head. As I sit down to pull my socks back on, he turns to me once more.

“I will go pay for these and the other things, then we can walk home.” He looks down at my feet. “I will get you some new socks as well.”

I nod silently as I tie my shoes. The new boots will be nice. I stand and dust myself off, watching him walk to the counter where he places the harness, the underwear, and everything else he’s buying. Including the thing made out of polished wood. Two of them. When did he even grab a second one? He sets them down with the rest as Brull talks to his other customer. The customer who is staring right at me with an all-too-familiar look in his eye, the same one Brull wore not two mi nutes ago.

I guess that’s why I’m here now, isn’t it? To give people a show. Or more. The anxiety in my chest builds. This is my life now, ordered around and used at the whims of my owner. Today it’s getting naked in public. What’s tomorrow: public fucking? OH WAIT, that was yesterday . My hands are shaking as I pull my shirt over my head, barely able to button it when my hands bump into the collar around my neck. It feels ten times heavier than it did a moment ago. I watch Ironstorm join the conversation, saying something and patting the heap of my humiliation next to him, making all three of t hem laugh.

I can’ t do this.

The three of them continue talking and laughing, likely at my expense, but none of them are actually watching me. I look at the open door to my left. I can hear people, see the bodies moving outside, more than doubled from when we walked in here. I look down. I can still feel the collar, but visually, it’s tucked underneath my shirt. I look just like a regular person. I’m even wearing clothes from inside the city.

No one would have any idea.

There’s another round of laughter to my right, and I take that as my cue. Making sure no one is watching—Brull even has them all looking at the same sheet of paper—I slip outside and into the crowd.