She can’t lie, it’s hard to pay attention when Fava and Griffin are on the center on the dance floor. She risks getting another earful from Nelly and leaves her table when everyone is supposed to be quietly sitting in their seats and marveling at the sigh before them... But Blythe doesn’t give a fuck. She’d even take another one of Nelly’s monologues if that meant she wouldn’t have to think about her own father.

Blythe needs someone she knows will calm her down, she so makes her way towards Eleven’s table and takes a seat next to Aldera. She waits for her friend to turn around to see who’s decided to pull a faux paus so early into the ceremony, and when she has Aldera’s eyes on her, Blythe sticks her tongue out. Clearly, Blythe is the queen of maturity that night.

“How much you want to bet Griffin ends up stepping on Fava’s feet at least once.“

With everything she knows, of course Blythe is running from one place to another, collecting empty bottles she then places all over her room. It’s not hard, really. While everyone has kept their worries pretty quiet, there’s been so much drinking around her she’s been able to amass quite a collection. 

And she is hard at work too, using a pair of pink scissors she stole from Virgo to slice and cut a table cloth into tiny pieces she’ll need for her little project to work. She is focused, so much she doesn’t notice someone has come to pay her a visit until she drops the scissors and spots Aldera.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.“