Something really weird is going on. He feels like maybe he knew what, at some point, but then everything started to regress, like it's become inconsequential. It's all something of a blur.

He drains his glass and looks over to her as he strains to remember who she is to Tim. To the liar. Did she know him? They were friends, weren't they?

Friends. Funny, how the liar should know better than to form such things.

He smiles and nods to her once. The instinct to reply verbally feels strangely secondary at this moment.