I was in the middle of devouring some chocolate covered strawberries when Bill walked over, a glass of punch in one hand.
“I think you're a little lost. The bar's that way,” I pointed across the room before turning and dipping a ripe red strawberry into the chocolate fountain.
The buffet was a smorgasbord of color and the only thing worth my attention for now.
Most of the conversation revolved around lighting and make up and how expensive the entire costume of the movie was and how well it would do in the box office.
I found my mind drifting to Carson on more than one occasion. He would've been the best person to deal with the snobs because the I-don't-tolerate-nonsense air that seemed to cling to him was quite palpable.
“I just came over to say I'm sorry, about what happened in the car.”