DORM ROOM – NIGHT Posters of gothic bands and eerie artwork cover the walls. Black candles flicker on the windowsill. Marceline, dressed in all black, lounges on the bed, scrolling on her phone. Her roommate sits at a cluttered desk, typing away on his laptop.

Marceline: "What’s the point of assignments? Nothing matters in the grand scheme of existence."

Roommate, without looking up: "Tell that to our professor. I’m sure they’d love that excuse."

Marceline dramatically sighs and flops onto her side.

Marceline: "You never understand the depth of my suffering."

Roommate: "You ran out of eyeliner again, didn’t you?"

She glares. He chuckles.

DORM ROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT

He walked into Marceline's room. She was sitting on her bed, eyes wide with shock. A jar of mayonnaise rested in her hands. Her pants were down, revealing her white panties, and her socks were pushed down to her ankles. She was clearly mid-something—but what, exactly? Even she didn’t seem to know.

Marceline, quickly: "No. This is not what you think it is... or whatever it is..."

Silence. Tension. Confusion. She clutched the jar defensively. He stared, trying to process. Then she whispered to herself.

Marceline: "...I need better hobbies.... What is wrong with me... What even came to mind when I decided to... try whatever this is..."