Psii's failure kept staring him in the face in the form of a helmstroll display. He had to keep himself from clutching at Signless and apologizing for his failure for the two thousandth time. He'd be of more use if he could put on a brave face in this universe and not give Capitolites more reasons to gossip about him or his best friend.

So he milled around, eating bugs, listening in on anything he thought might be important (most of the conversations were inane), and trying to spill wine on anyone who thought playing with the slave dress-up station would be fun. These rich bastards could all go fuck themselves.

"That'th what I keep thaying about thith whole shitshow. The food really ith the shining thtar of thith entire exthperienthe. Thure I keep looking over at all the horrible punishment dithplayth, biowireth, cuffth, et thetera, but really, theriouthly, the food detherveth an award. An award for not making me want to projectile vomit."