"Tempting, but no. He's as close a shot as we've got at a win right now. If I get that desperate, I'll shave one of them and put them in drag." She jokes, like she hasn't very seriously considered it while flipping through the magazines with spreads of beautiful evening gowns. The awkward laugh certainly blips on her radar, but she'll small talk him until she's prepared to leave him to his own grumpy devices again.

"Oh! Hmm, lemme think. Clara's was crap, that theme was all over the place. Kevin's was fucking awful. Shirts? Hotdogs? I could have cried. Mindy's was stupid but at least the costumes were fun." She's getting pretty far back now, counting on her fingers as she goes. "The less said about Frenchie the better. You know? I think they nailed it with the Gladiator guy. That was timeless and classy." She lets out a wistful sigh, but move on with the conversation. "I get the feeling they're going to start docking me if we're looking at more of this same shirt bullshit."