The speakers blare obscenely with Kenny Loggins "Footloose" as you and the small group you'd arrived with wander aimlessly through the lively crowd.

To occupy yourself, you set yourself away from the crowd and observe a small circle of frat boys doing God knows what. But someone drifting a few ways away grabs your attention.

Ah you knew him. Daryl Dixon. He and his brother had a small name for themselves on campus. Not a pretty one either. A name more related to dealing contraband.