It would have been social suicide, and the end of any interest in her tributes, had Nisha chosen not to show up for the annual Evans viewing party, so she had gone. Her dress for the occasion was perhaps too simple, but she preferred to call it elegant. Understated. The sheerness of the skirt should make up for it, in her opinion. She had no interest in calling attention to herself that night, anyway. While other escorts chose to mingle in an effort to get sponsors for whatever tributes they had left, Nisha stood back and observed. She'd already made all her overtures in far more private avenues.
With a drink in hand, one she'd been nursing the whole night, Nisha observed the antics of the others in the room with a fairly blank expression, except for the glint of amusement in her eyes. They were all so young, so impressed with themselves and their own importance. Nisha had seen it all begin, though she'd gone by a different name, then, one she'd changed on a whim just as she might change her hair color. She'd probably see it all end someday, too. Everything was temporary, and though this provided momentary amusement, everyone in the room was just as much her entertainment as the tributes in the arena were theirs.
Her eyes scanned over the gamemaker having a little hissy fit, the bizarre little flirtations that always sprung up between those involved in the games outside the arena, the giggling gaggle of stylists, their gracious hosts, and of course the head gamemaker himself. Most of them met with a small upward quirk of her lips, though she inclined her head in a nod toward Robert. As little as she cared for involving herself in these little games, the man was more worthy of her respect than most. The rest of them... well. They're good for a laugh.