When he arrived, he found that his guess of Pink Floyd T-shirt and black jeans had been about right. A few of the party-goers had preppy or frat-boy looks going, but the predominant mood was either hipster or some flavor of counter-culture, including one guy in an outright goth getup with black eye makeup and a mesh shirt.
The male to female ratio was a bit skewed, the building apparently mostly had guys, though the host of the party proved to be female, and she enthusiastically handed around jello shots without asking anybody about their age. Noah took one, but just one. He wasn’t the sort to get hammered at parties. He’d left his own small stash of booze home, too. Both because he was too broke to readily share it and because if they party did get busted, he didn’t want to have supplied
