Outside, bright young things smoke cigarettes and catch eyes.
Inside, Elisabeth is pulling me into various corridors for various reasons, as Heather Graham glows in the corner, distractingly gorgeous.
One hand holds wine and one hand holds Conrad’s as we sneak onto the roof and look out at the silent city.
At 2 am they play Take Me Out on the soundsystem and we smile knowingly, a cue.
“MisShapes?” I ask.
“French fries,” says Conrad.
Done.
[EMMY ROSSUM - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]