She gets it, or at least the gist of it. She was there, once.

Now she pets his shoulders again, partly for her friend's comfort--but largely so that she has something to fidget with while she tries not to stumble over any of her own feelings. She doesn't usually have "real" talks with people without lots of drinking, first.

"That's okay. That's why we practice. I mean, I didn't know anything about anything when I started going to clubs and stuff..."

She was very small, then. For some reason, that's the feeling that gets attached to everything else she's saying: subtle notes of helplessness in a sea of much larger, louder, confusing things.

"...But I caught on pretty fast, and I think you would too. Eventually you'll know everything. And then it'll feel pretty good to be, like, in control of the situation wherever you go. You know?"

Which is her end goal, even if it is not what other people normally go for.

"Besides, the nice things about spaces like that is that everything is really impermanent. So even if you fuck up really bad, it won't actually matter because everyone's already moving on to the next thing."