The large group wasn’t any local gang she knew of, but a glance around the room showed her the emblems and tattoos of various other gangs of whom she’d heard Imran speak. She saw nose-rings, stapled jeans, rat-tail bracelets, rusted skull badges, the full litany of signs and symbols. Each little group sat in its own area, respecting the territory of the others but making their own presence known. A handful of solitaires strong enough to command respect passed through the crowd. The outsiders didn’t seem to arouse either contempt or dismay among the locals, and she wondered how they had earned such acceptance. Probably because there are forty or fifty of them, she thought; that might do it.