Velvet walked briskly west down Howard Street, maneuvering between grannies and sunning junkies talking to themselves in the middle of the footpath.
Traffic slowly moved through the intersection, the occasional car revving its engine out of frustration.
It was hot, but Velvet barely noticed as her heart tried to jump out of her throat. She was going to do it. She was going to walk up to Volta and take their relationship status from strangers to smoochers.
Sure, she hadn't been sleeping much. Sure she mostly had been eating her anxiety pills and hallucinated that someone was getting chased through her bamboo garden last night. Sure, she was a complete mess. But this, this was logical, and the only glimmer of hope she could hold onto right now.
She wanted him.
She was going to go get him.
Simple, right?
She wove through stopped traffic on Currie Street, cutting over to the other side of the road where Mama Thai's was closing up for the day.
Velvet waved to Mama Thai who jumped up and down excitedly.
But Velvet didn't have time to talk.
She thought she faintly heard 'ok see you!' as she powered past, the library and council forecourt looming ahead.
A small group of people were milling about, posters and pitchforks at their sides as they waited for something to happen.
Velvet took a wide berth and walked further down Bury Street until she was standing in the shadows of the colossal council building, watching as the protestors grew in number.
They suddenly sprung into action as the council chamber doors slid open, throwing up their posters and shouting as one.
"No more blacks! No more blacks! No more blacks!"
A man towards the front of the crowd held up a confederate flag in one hand, throwing up a Seig Heil in the other.
"Oh sweet Jesus," Velvet said under her breath, "they're fucking Nazis."
The protestors were holding up an array of signs reading 'YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE', 'TIME TO CLEAN UP NAMBOUR', and 'WHITES ARE PEOPLE TOO'.
Joey stepped out from inside the building, followed by Bob, Sage, a middle-aged woman carrying her phone out in front of her, a man with a handlebar mustache sporting a large camera and bringing up the rear was a blank-faced Volta.
They paused by the art-deco pylons as they looked out at the crowd before them. Mouths open, eyes wide in terror.
"We better film this before the news shows up," the reporter said to the photographer who pulled out his phone with shaking hands.
He swung his camera around to his side and started to film the crowd.
"Alarming scenes here at council chambers in Nambour this afternoon," the woman said, "as protestors show up to confront the victim of the coast's latest hate-crime."
Velvet's eyes were glued to Volta as he and his crew moved into a defensive stance like a well-oiled machine.
Sage took a step back, standing behind Joey who flexed at the crowd, poking his tongue out at them and wriggling his eyebrows.
Volta and Bob stood either side of Sage as she clutched her bag to her chest, looking around nervously. By all means, this looked like her first rodeo.
"The police will be here soon," Bob said softly to Sage, "it will be over before you know it."
Sage smiled meekly, holding her bag tighter.
The reporter moved towards the crowd, the photographer a step behind.
"Sir, can you tell us why you're here today?" she asked the man at the front with the Confederate flag.
His blue eyes dialated as he turned to face the reporter, sneering as he looked her up and down.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
The reporter looked at the photographer, taking a step back from the man.
"I'm from Maroochydore." she said.
The man shook his head violently, stomping his boots on the ground.
"That's not what I meant," he looked around at the crowd, now silent, "are you Australian?"
The woman looked to the cameraman again, fear in her eyes.
The man took a step forward, leering with yellowed teeth.
"Now tell me..." he tugged at his flannel shirt, "don't make me ask again. Are you Australian?"
He took another step forward, the crowd of protestors moving with him, closing in on the reporter and photographer.
Velvet was frozen in horror at the scene unfolding before her.
No one was coming to the woman's rescue.
Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she stepped out from the shadows of the council building. The reporter just a few meters in front of her, it wouldn't take long to close the gap and punch that Nazi in the face.
Velvet nodded to herself.
Once again, another foolproof plan.
Sirens sounded in the distance as the police made the descent down into Nambour.
They were only minutes away, but Velvet only had a few seconds to save the reporter.
Velvet took a deep breath in and strode forwards, fists clenched and head bowed.
A hand wrapped around her wrist and whipped her around.
Another hand over her mouth to stop her from shouting.
She stood eye to eye with Min-jun, and he didn't look happy.
"Oi!" she said, muffled by his hand, "take your hand off my mouth!"
He dragged her back to the shadows.
Velvet opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind.
He hushed her, turning her back around to see the action.
"Just watch," he said softly, hand still on her wrist.
The reporter took a deep breath in.
"I am not Australian," she said firmly, "as I am not Aboriginal. I am a proud Maori from the Urewera iwi, and I stand by my Aboriginal brothers and sisters who are the rightful custodians of this land. I will not stand for this disgusting display of racism. You are not Australian," she narrowed her eyes, "shame on you."
The crowd took a collective breath in.
"Damn," Velvet whispered, in awe.
The man took another step towards the reporter, hand raising to a Seig Heil.
"White power!" he screamed, eyes full of fury.
The crowd moved into action, descending upon the reporter and the photographer.
Then, out of nowhere, Volta appeared behind the woman.
He grabbed her, pulling her backward along with the photographer.
Joey came charging through, sending bodies flying as he moved.
Just as Volta moved out of the way, as if they had been rehearsing for days, Joey arrived in front of the Seig Heil man.
CRACK!
He punched him straight in the nose.
The crowd stopped, mouths open.
Blood poured down the mans face.
The police swarmed into the forecourt.
It was chaos as protesters clambered over one another, trying to escape arrest.
Min-jun pulled Velvet to the back of the council building, narrowly avoiding being trampled by a unit of plainclothes detectives running onto the scene, hands on guns.
They flattened themselves against the wall as more people ran past.
Velvet kept her eyes on the last place she had seen Volta who had disappeared as soon as he dragged the reporter to safety.
Min-jun kept his eyes on Velvet as he stood with his body pressed into hers, protecting her from the pushes and shoves of the crowd.
He was so close he could smell the wild rosella from her conditioner, and faint traces of coffee grind that stuck to her little black dress.
He smiled to himself, pleased with his efforts.
"Ahem," Velvet poked him in his stomach, "step off buddy."
Min-jun looked around, the forecourt now empty from potentially hazardous Nazis.
He took a step back, brushing himself off, still smiling.
Velvet crossed her arms over her chest.
"You seem awfully pleased with yourself." she frowned, rearranging her dress.
He could see the muscular lines of her quads as she pulled her dress down, and the line of her collarbone as she turned her head to look at her back.
She smoothed out a wrinkle in the hem, her dress lifting slightly.
Min-jun looked away as more of her legs were revealed in the reflection of the council building.
"How do I look?" Velvet stepped towards him, turning around so that the dress danced about her.
Min-jun cleared his throat, trying to find the right words.
Nothing came out.
"Eh," Velvet shrugged, "I've heard worse."
She balled her fists and set her sights on Volta who was now over by the library, pacing back and forth as his friends rushed to their car.
"Ready or not," Velvet whispered, "here she comes."
She thrust herself forward, hellbent on making Volta hers. Glorious triceps and all.
"Oh yes," she said.
Min-jun watched on in the shadows of the building, face expressionless, eyes mournful.
This was going to be embarrassing, he knew it.