Venus Dee Milo, District Five, is eager to get out of her District suite and away from the smothering discomfort of awkward roommate relationships and not-relationships. She's still got a cup of coffee in her hand - thank God for paper cups in the kitchenette - when she hops into the elevator with the Creature. A single earbud drips from her left ear, and the sound of some mindless pop song comes out, muffled and tinny, from the other that hangs down over her chest.

She dresses to be photographed, always. Even limited by the cold weather outside, her coat is nipped in at the waist and the faux-fur lining her hood gives her the guise of some wild lion turned human. Her boots cut up to her knee, making up for practical soles with glitzy beading around the ankles. Her makeup almost successfully hides that she's spent a lot of the holidays crying herself to sleep; the puffiness around her eyes could be mistaken for a natural quirk of her facial structure.

"Hey," she says, thrusting her empty paper cup at him. "You know where I can toss this? I'm not sure if it's recyclable."