[she laughs dryly without looking over, at least once she's certain that he's doing what she asked.]

Trust me, dude, I get it. Lived that way for years. Never helps, though, does it. [she's not trying to admonish him for it; instead, no, she sounds extremely sincere about it. and just a little tired.]

It's just kicking it down the road for you to deal with on top of having a splitting fuckin' headache and the dry heaves. [she realizes that she hasn't seen him around before, but also considers that she hasn't seen a lot of people at the party before, and decides to lob a softball instead of anything more prying.] So what is it? Dealing with the squiddification of your whole life?