After what felt like hours (but only about fifteen minutes), Jackson found himself near the party's edge. He leaned against a tree. This was hopeless. He didn't even know what he was looking for.
"Quantum Quill," he hissed, feeling slightly ridiculous talking to thin air. "A little help here? Who am I supposed to be looking for?"
Nothing. Not even a peep.
"Great," Jackson groaned. "Just great. I'm at a fancy party, talking to myself like a lunatic, trying to find a woman I can't even identify. This is definitely how I pictured my Sunday night going."
He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that probably made him look less like a 'debonair secret agent' and more like a 'frazzled office worker on a bender'.
A group of giggling women walked by, giving him curious looks. He
