We were only permitted to join the PhD students at their table if they invited us to join them. XY was pretty certain that she could persuade at least one of them to offer us an invitation. However, this was worthless because nearly all the food had been eaten by the time we reached the venue.
Then XY scalded her foot. We popped into the ladies on the ground floor where the running water of the flush from a pink marble throne-like toilet could be administered to the wound. Afterwards XY donned a red silk gown and transformed herself into a huge, overweight Chinaman.
Even in her new guise, XY could not persuade me to write a series of academic profiles for her project. I had a grant proposal to complete, and this would take me the rest of the summer.