During your long set, Krin watched you. She chatted with her friends, the other members of Last's gang, even a few members of the crue. She scream-sang "We Not Gonna Take It!" along with everyone else, and drank half a bottle of booze, you think. As your songs wound down and requests slowed, she disappeared for a few minutes.
You play the final notes of the last song, pull the fall over the keys, then head for the bar. You catch Krin sauntering back into the room. She's pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which shows off her earrings. You notice she's added a bit of foundation, hiding the tiredness around her eyes. She evidently didn't have time to reapply her nail polish, her nails are still short, stubby things with hints of cracked polish, dark purple. She's removed her arm guard and gloves, which make her look a hint more delicate, and also show off the full sleeve of tats on her right arm. Her left hand sports a nasty burn scar along the back, something long and thick, from the wrist to her knuckles, old and discolored.
Krin takes a seat by the bar, sliding onto a stool by JD, but she's definitely watching you approach, a soft smile on her face, eyes confident but interested.