Abed's not around and Troy's bored, so when he scans the room and spots Britta standing in a corner, it only seems natural to approach her.

"Hey, squirrel," he starts, his voice lilting at the end in a request for confirmation that he'd guessed her costume correctly.

"Right. Michael Jackson?" she asks.

"No," he scoffs. "Eddie Murphy! Duh!" He rolls his eyes at her obliviousness. She was older, sure, but he never would've guessed that she was completely out of the loop. Scratch that. He totally would've guessed that she was completely out of the loop.

"Oh," she sighs. "I guess the mustache should've clued me in."

Troy nods in agreement. "So… you didn't want to be a nurse or a police officer?" He doesn't mean to sound hopeful, but he also wouldn't have minded if she'd gone the slutty route.

Britta gasps in exaggerated horror. "Halloween is not an excuse to traipse around in revealing clothes!"

"Uh, it kinda is."

"Is not!"

"I think you just missed the point of Halloween like you missed the point of my costume."

"Whatever," Britta says, quietly irritated.

"Want punch?" Troy offers in peace.

She sighs before mumbling, "Yes."