Between Bones' hand on his hip and arm around his neck, Jim is sliding easily into the rhythm that pumps from the club's speakers, his eyes filled with the dizzy swirls of the pulsing lights. The bass feels as if it pumps right into the heart of him, mirrored by the swing of Bones' hips, and Jim is all but mesmerized. "You!" he laughs. "He thought I was with you."