Camila's thinly veiled disdain for her environment was becoming more conspicuous by the second, and post-holiday parties like the one she was attending certainly didn't help. Most nights, she didn't go completely dry; in fact, she was cradling a nearly empty flask in her hands, opting for her own brand of jungle juice instead of a bottle of champagne that she knew she couldn't even pretend to enjoy. Still, the mixture of alcohol didn't drown out the constant, nagging conglomeration of unnecessary screams and desperate pleas for attention. "It's one AM," she remarked with an eyeroll, the sardonicism falling from her lips. "Do you know where your former child stars are?"










