Ivan must be drunker than he thought he was. He could have sworn he knew his way around Vivienne's parents' house, since she wanted to introduce him last week and showed him the place, but maybe they have a... secret... upstairs... bar? where Vivienne's room is supposed to be? And most certainly was last time he checked? He's never going to find the sweater she sent him up looking for here, anyway. Why is there a secret upstairs bar in Vivienne's parents' house?
"For uncountably many reasons, please keep not doing the thing you're not doing right now."
"Now there's a fight I would not want to have to break up. Can you all stop antagonizing one another?"
"I wasn't actually going to," says Stalas. "The thought did cross my mind. The fact that he apparently read it there isn't helping."
"I walked in the door and it vanished when I turned around," he says. "I am not the most composed I've ever been."
"'Drink a pink thing, pick a fight with Stalas, high potential for death or serious injury all round' is more how that would go," he says.
"Stunner's a nice ranged nonlethal. Shoot somebody with it and they fall unconscious and wake up a while later or when given the right hypospray, with what may or may not be a well-deserved hangover."
"And is all this needling serving some useful stress-relieving purpose, or is it more of a symptom than a cure?"
"A little of one, a little of the other," he says, choosing not to answer Stalas's question.
"Look, Mark, do you want to you and me go back to the bar and see if she'll give us a chess set or something and you can stop staring weirdly at them?" sighs Ivan.
He looks at Ivan. Perhaps he's making an effort not to be unsettling; it mostly comes out tragic instead.
"I'm not a Miles, I'm not going to want to decapitate you if you look at me funny. I will just sort of stand here being confused and unsettled, that's got to get boring eventually."