"Nice shirt," Ronan says, tipping his beer against his lips for a quick drink before digging his fingers into the bowl of Fritos and chomping into one. He can't help feeling like he's some kind of party organized by a suburban house mom where over half the people invited failed to show up.

Across the room, Cheng is busy talking to both Blue and Adam and Ronan takes another swig of his beer to dull the flare of irritation under his skin. It doesn't work.

"How long do I have to stay to make it look like I give a shit about being here?" he asks, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.