Vanya's not proud of this weak out she's taking. This is a chance to exercise some self-respect. Instead, her instinct was to lie, and to roll someone else up in the bullshit. It's not a big deal, but she's nearing a panic about this stupid thing. Lying for a second is infinitely better than a whole room of donors witnessing her panic attack - and who knows what else.

"You caught me," she admits, though the tug of a tiny a smile curves up. In a whole room of musicians, conductors, connoisseurs and debutantes, she's managed to find another person that maybe feels like he doesn't belong.

She looks back over her shoulder. The woman is fast approaching. She swallows around another bitter shot of panic and says, quietly, "I'm going to take your arm now. I-if that's okay." She risks it and does it anyway. It makes her feel more polite, somehow: like maybe he is an old friend and she has a more acceptable reason to dodge this woman like she's the apocalypse and Vanya's her smallest (and oldest) brother.

With nothing more than a one second sort of gesture, she heads for the door, however stiff. She might be gripping this guy's arm kind of hard. She's no good at this sort of thing at all, and she's much worse at escaping it.