"Okay, okay, we don't need an entire committee on this guys," Rosy says, already worried for the safety of both Ursula and her dress. Arms crossed over her chest, trying her hardest not to show how much she felt like a pile of dried dog shit, she not-very-gently nudges Yancey out of the way. Please, for the love of god and everything else you love (pizza? seems like you guys really love pizza) do not get pizza grease on this probably incredibly expensive dress, Yancey.

"We also probably don't need an audience, aren't you guys watching... pizza things?" She wrinkles her nose at the screen. Aggressively weird things made exactly zero sense to her. "Someone grab me one of the robes and the rest of you just, like, go watch and eat and, I dunno, be pizza."