"Look out! Terrorists!" he hissed. There was a sharp bang from just ahead, the sound of a gun going off. Serrin through his body over Kristen, looking wildly around for the gunman. Michael’s face turned to an evil smile as he raised the neck of the bottle toward Serrin, a little wisp of gas still curling from it as the first foamy bubbles began to pour out over the sides of the neck. His other hand proffered paired champagne glasses.