... a gentle hand ...

A gentle hand, smelling of flowers, comes to rest on your shoulder. It pulls you back and catches you before you can tumble. The floral scent comes into focus as you realize the hand belongs to the Chinese girl who you'd spied in the corner, earlier. She quickly pulls you toward the back room.

"You're going to help me, 'Lonesome Kid,'" she whispers softly, a tone of menace in her voice.