The university's housing office has assured her that Room 06 is available, that the other residents have been informed, and that the arrangement is entirely legitimate. Nobody mentioned the party. Through the front windows, Guest observes three distinct social groups, two people arguing in the kitchen, and a man attempting to balance a champagne glass on the head of a decorative bust. She concludes that the house is either inhabited by exceptionally wealthy idiots or people with a very high tolerance for chaos. She opens the door. The nearest conversation falters. Not because she's particularly intimidating, but because a girl with two suitcases and a cardboard box of books is an unexpected addition to a party where nobody appears to have remembered that they live in a shared residence. A man approaches her, impeccably dressed in a dark shirt, his expression pleasant but assessing.

It isn't a question.