Chad left the group squabbling. He didn't much want to get involved, not when the oestrogen was spewing out of the wrong God darned gender. Chel needed to man up, that was an affirmative - but he knew this would happen. Every group had its little goody-two-shoes, and Chel was theirs. 

Rounding the corner, Chad shone his light up the length of a long but narrow corridor. His torch failed to penetrate the far darkness, but there was an opening on the wall to the left, and to his right was a stretching wall of shattered glass panes. If the map was right, that'd be his party pad. He gleefully ran on, stopping to get a few precursory glances at what awaited him, but was sure there'd be plenty of room and chairs - and hopefully no hobos or crack whores. He approached two large metal doors, both hadn't yet rusted owing to what he guessed was a galvanised coating, but their large frosted windows had been crashed through. Placing a palm against them, he gave a shove, and stood back as they parted. 

Beyond was a large expanse of open planned eating space. Dozens of square tables dotted the area; some were in disrepair, but the majority looked sturdy enough. Off in at the far end was a wide counter, where Chad guessed the kitchen stood. Looking around in quiet admiration, he chucked to himself. 

"Aweeeeeeeeeesome, hey guys, come 'n check it out, Uncle Chad's found us a nicer place to hang," he shouted back towards the lobby.