And as he shuttled throughout the party, aimlessly looking for that so-called significant connection—and Monica too—he ended up stumbling across quite a number of... well, let's just say, interesting situations.
The first was a walking stereotype with a trust fund and too much confidence. A 20-something rich kid with a man bun stood on a raised platform near the bar, wine glass in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other, despite being indoors. He wore a crushed velvet jacket and an expression of pure self-importance.
"I'm making a film that'll redefine cinema," he announced loudly to no one in particular, but everyone was forced to hear it. "It's a four-hour silent film... about moss."
There was a pause, then a round of nods and murmured praises from a half-circle of sycophants who clearly didn't understand a word of it but knew better than to say so. One woman clapped softly as if he'd just recited poetry.
