No matter what Merritt does, she keeps ending up on the opposite side of the room as Noa Sweet. She's done her makeup so nicely, gotten her hair to sit so perfectly, picked out an incredibly on-theme and well-fitting dress, and he still hasn't so much as looked her way. Ugh. She isn't pouting about it, not really, though she has decided to at least temporarily give up on scoring with the ( technically spoken for rockstar ) and focus on getting herself to a quiet place for a line.

Upstairs - two flights, to the quieter part of the house where no one is supposed to be but people are wandering anyway. Annoying. To this day, only one couple has ever risked going into the rooms marked OFF-LIMITS, and neither of those two were invited back; she's not worried people are in there, but it's still frustrating to have to squeeze through to get to her own room, muttering excuse me's like anyone cared at all. Her door is closed, of course, but another barrier poses itself before that: Vee, mid-conversation, his halo crooked and bouncing as he talks.

There's nothing to feel embarrassed about but Merritt feels it anyway, seeping under her cosmetic blush in splotches and warming the skin. It's not like she's been avoiding him, not really, but she should've re-upped on her supply last Wednesday and has instead been nursing the same order for as long as possible. Life just gets in the way, and all. Merritt forges forth and stands, arms crossed and hip cocked in front of Vee.

"Do I have to, like, answer a riddle to get into my own room?"

"we should fuck"

or immense hate

"fuck you, asshole"