I formally introduce them to Camila.

"Natalie, Raquel, this is Camila— she's our new friend! Without her help, I would've been in serious trouble." I say to both riled women as I finalize freeing my hands, stretching my arms this way and that; thankful they're not sore or bruised, since Macy's goal with the zip ties was to humiliate, rather than hurt me.

With my member soft once again, I'm no longer anxious about potential peeks under my skirt, and nonchalantly listen to Raquel, who is still gripping the werewolf cosplayer's shoulder.

"Wait? You're actually fine? Guess I oughta thank this girl." My best friend says, not yet releasing the poor woman's deltoid.

I look Camila straight in her fear-struck eyes—which are currently filling with confusion at my total relaxation—and say to her, calm and breezy, "Don't worry, these girls are awesome. They wouldn't hurt you even if they wanted to."

"I think my shoulder might bruise." The Latina werewolf says, her voice somehow both quavering and flat.

"Whoops! My bad." Says Raquel, finally relenting her squeeze. We all reposition ourselves for a proper conversation, and the curvaceous woman in the risqué bustier begins with her introduction, "Now, I know you heard Ahab here say our names, but let me specify— I'm Raquel; juggler, Mime, banjo maestro, tutor of Sign, all-around badass. I can't thank you enough for keeping my bestie out of trouble for me, Camila." Raquel motions for the colossal blonde coworker crushing on me to speak, "And this massive drink of water is…"

She motions again.

I have to hand it to Natalie— twelve seconds of panicked discombobulation before responding has to be some kind of record.

"H-hi! Uh, hi, I uhh, I— Hello, I'm Natalie; one time, when I was in the woods, I bench pressed a tree that fell on me."

"And I'm Camila; Cosplayer, beautician, and very happy I'm on your guys's good sides." The attractive Guatemalan woman squints, smiling crookedly, "I can't help but feel like I've seen you before…"

"That's because you took pictures with us like, fifty minutes ago. Wait… how could you possibly forget a six-foot-tall green lady?!" My best friend inquires, distraught.

"You could say I was a little… distracted." Camila says, raising an eyebrow and biting her lip as she lowers her gaze to my crotch.

I protectively place a hand in front of my groin and begin fiddling with the hem of my undersized skirt; feeling a blush tint my cheeks red as the beautician's eyes bore into me, I rush to change the subject, "Hey, uh, Camila, since you're wearing that awesome costume… are you by chance heading to the cosplay tourney? In Hall-C?"

"Oh yeah!" She shouts, ripping her leers away from my theoretically-covered body, "Until I ran into you, that's where I was going; I was gonna meet my friends there, but now I'm like, really late! Mierde!"

Whew, she actually stopped staring, I didn't think I could take much mo— wait, Late!?!? Aw, shoot! Meeting the Mystery Woman at that tournament was the whole reason I left the Booth, and now I'm late?! If I don't make haste, I could miss my marvelous savior completely!

"Shoot! Raquel, we're late too!" I shout, ever so slightly, mildly, almost unnoticeably goddamn panicked.

"Shazbot!" Raquel imprecates, adjusting her pointy, umbra-dark hat. The chubby busker lady throws a beat up looking camera I don't recall her owning over her bare shoulder, and pushes me by the wings in the heading of Hall-C. "Nat-nat, Camila, come on; we gotta hurry!"

With that, the four of us rush to the tournament.