[Chris is... He doesn't know what to do. He's sat on the floor at the edge of the ballroom, back pressed against the wall, spliff gone out from inattention and hands drumming idle beats on his knees while he tries to calm down. He's used to drama at parties, but this isn't drama, it's murder. It's fucked up fucking murder and some bullshit label rivalry and all Chris wants to do is go home, get high and go to sleep without thinking about any of it.]
[He keeps thinking, 'Tony would know what to do, Jal would know what to do,' but those names don't mean anything to him and that in itself is another piece of shit on the whipped bullshit sundae that this night has become.]
[Chris drops his head back with a thunk as it hits the wall and a groan of frustration; he just wants to go home.]
CHRIS
[He keeps thinking, 'Tony would know what to do, Jal would know what to do,' but those names don't mean anything to him and that in itself is another piece of shit on the whipped bullshit sundae that this night has become.]
[Chris drops his head back with a thunk as it hits the wall and a groan of frustration; he just wants to go home.]