“Oh… well…” Lydia didn’t seem like she quite knew what to say to that. “I don’t know, I just got here… It seems nice eno- Guest of honor?” She raised a brow. “Really?…” She tossed her head back a bit. “Well, aside from a few minor complaints, it’s going alright, I suppose. It’s a terrible idea to ask a lady if everything’s alright because it never is.” She looked around, studying the room. “We’ll always find something to complain about.” She glanced at Benjamin. “Where’s Mythos? I have something I need to say to him. With my fists. That’s why I came here, mostly.”

Thomas, generally nonplussed, leaned against the open frame in the kitchen, his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Now don’t be difficult, Lydia. You can’t just come to this fancy half million dollar party and start a fight…” he removed a glass of the champagne from a tray that came by him. “At least spend a few minutes suckling milk from the teat of the rich.”

“Didn’t ask you,” Lydia glared at him. “Why don’t you go back into the other room? I’d suggest you pick up a woman or something but we know how that would go… quickshot.” she made the noise of a gun being fired.

“Fine, I’m going. Tell anyone that story and they’ll never find your body,” Thomas called over his shoulder.

“My girlfriends and I still laugh about it,” Lydia yelled after him. “Sorry about that, Benjamin. He's an old friend. Now, you were thinking about telling me about where Mythos is.”