"Haven't had any problems with it, myself, but I've heard stories," Max's reply came, a beat later as he adjusted to the sudden and overwhelming feeling of deja vu - just like with Lucy and Alex. Again he noted how this feeling only ever dawned around people who lived in the same building with him (though only a select, small few) and he was, as ever, hard pressed to understand what caused it. Something in a similar nature, maybe some weird, twisted, psychic dream thing? Max shook his head imperceptibly, as though to dispel such quandaries in favor of focusing on the moment at hand.
"I feel like I'm a little under dressed...I didn't realize this was a black-tie thing." The statement was more than a joke than an actual observation - even Max, who's wardrobe consisted of gamer pictures and pop culture one liners, knew business casual from an actual suit. It still left him looking a little homeless, or at least like a kid who was probably underaged and shouldn't be at a party with liquor, at least not legally. Again he wondered why he was here - maybe it was just a stark curiosity that brought him up to this floor, a possibility of meeting others and maybe, just maybe, finding out about more peculiar episodes going on in the building. He was still a firm believer that more people putting their heads together would help unravel the mystery than any one of them working on their own.
That, or maybe it was the tantalizing idea of maybe meeting a girl (not like he had time for such shenanigans between the schooling he was supposed to be focusing on and his nightly endeavors to rid the streets of Newport Beach of criminal scum, and the accompanying hospital visits), but that looked to be shot to hell since he didn't see too many other people around.
Jerking a thumb toward one of the open doors, Max canted his head slightly. "You know either of the guys throwing this thing? I think they just moved in. Talk about a house-warmer."