Sensory overload immediately crippled Mitch when he stepped foot into the dining room. All of the fancy lighting and sound equipment that’d been rented for the show was fully operational, and hopefully no one would get too drunk and accidentally break any of it. Most of the students and roster members were already present and filled the enormous room, all in costume and vibing to whatever niche electrohouse that Arin was playing. Seeing the sea of bodies in one place served as a reminder that it took an impressive number of hands to make both Monument Wrestling Academy and Grindhouse functional.

He squeezed through the throng to seek out Jodie, often being apprehended for a few moments of quick conversation or to oblige requests to have pictures taken with various friends. Around 15 minutes in, overstimulation and fatigue reached their peak, which had to be a new record. He interrupted anyone else that approached and asked if they’d seen Jodie, and the 3rd or 4th person pointed to the pass-thru cafeteria window which had been converted to a bar for the night. Hurrying along and bumping into nearly everyone in his path, he offered apologies and requested to pass through. Eventually, bright purple hair came into his field of view, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” he quietly greeted and sidled up to her as she conversed with no less than 6 other people, none of which he recognized.

“Hey wife!” Jodie put an arm around his waist and pulled him in close, then introduced him to the group. It turned out that they were all involved with the new brewery, and he took turns to shake each of their hands; if only he put in the extra effort to apply the press-on nails so that he had an excuse to refrain. “His band is going to be opening the show tomorrow,” Jodie explained, which led to small-talk style questions about what kind of music Liner Notes played, how long they’d been around, and the like. Mitch fielded them the same way he did when club owners and agents and producers hung around a green room. As far as he could tell, no one actually cared much about the details, so he kept the answers brief, smiling and nodding along to tangential anecdotes. Some of the company present either were currently, or had been, in a band themselves, so he let them do most of the talking. When a business card was handed to him, along with the suggestion that they ought to get together and jam, he felt like he’d won a game of bingo.

It was fine. Nothing egregious, just the run-of-the-mill networking stuff that he hadn’t prepared himself for, but was willing to do for Jodie’s sake. Also, she mentioned getting him gigs at the brewery, so he wasn’t going to botch that opportunity just because he didn’t want to interact with anyone new at that moment.

But Jodie, perhaps sensing that he wasn’t all there, suggested that the small group go check out the unoccupied cornhole set-up. “Come find me if you need me,” she squeezed Mitch’s arm before taking off with the rest of the group, and he assured her that he’d be alright.

He stood there by himself and watched her leave, nerves swelling like a rising tide being forced through a narrow channel that couldn’t possibly contain all of the water. It wasn’t Jodie interacting with new friends or co-workers or whatever they were that upset him, there were plenty of people here that he knew, and he could very well engage with any of them.

From where he stood, he could see Louis and Desiree already eyefucking one another in a corner, which made him wonder if Nate was still outside. Or maybe he could chill out for once and try to enjoy himself in a social setting, while also wearing an extremely revealing dress that he put on in agreement to be part of a couple’s costume.

He was being a bitch. He knew it. Blame it on the stupid dress.

“Hey, can I get you a drink?” came a voice from behind him, interrupting his train of thought that quickly went off of the rails. One of the refs assumed the role of bartender, and it dawned on Mitch how few people here were aware of his issues, since he rarely opened up about them. He took some solace in the idea that he’d done a good enough job coming across as normal, and not as some strung-out junkie that barely held it together without a fix.

Propping an elbow on the counter, Mitch smirked and responded with, “Surprise me.”