Oblivious to the world around him, Dave has absolutely no idea he's being watched. Alright, maybe he has an inkling. In the way anyone does when they feel they're being watched without being fully aware.

He glances upward, over his aviators, when he realises he's being spoken to. All of a sudden, he feels like he's sticking out like a sore thumb here, but he tries not to act like he cares too much.

"Man, I was tired of it when I got here." He says, with a shrug. "You know when you haven't done something in a while? Like. I dunno, when you think you might like brussel sprouts because hating them was just the done thing when you're a kid. So you go buy this big bag of brussel sprouts and you cook them and you lift that fork up to your lips, like it's the god damn moment of truth, and you realise- shit. Brussel sprouts do suck. It's not conditioning, they're just lame." He shifts around, so he's properly facing her and not hunched over his sketchpad. "That's how I feel about parties."

Not that he's gone to a party that hasn't been a small thing with close friends for years now. He doesn't even consider those parties.