Inside, Panda bellows for her mum like a fog-horn and they do some breathing exercises before Panda introduces her to Effy and Katie.
Panda’s mum: Effy, we meet at last. Panda’s told me so much about you.
Panda: Yeah, you know Eff, your missionary work.
Effy: Yes. I try to do as much of that as I can.
Panda’s mum: That’s good. There’s so many bad things in the world. Boys. Drugs and guns. Alcohol. Boys. Evil things. I’m glad Pandora’s found a channel she can pour her energy into.
Effy: Well, yes. All the seaman like her.
Panda’s mum: Seaman?
Effy: Oh, yes. Loads of seaman. Some of them are homeless as well. We’d all love to see Pandora get her own missionary position.
I could watch Meg’s face in this scene one hundred times in a row and never get tired of it.
In the kitchen, Panda starts a round of "London’s Burning" which is … a celebratory children’s song about the Great Fire? Is that right? Didn’t that fire destroy like 13,000 houses and 100 churches? Aren’t there only like a dozen pre-fire building left in London? Those black and white ones? Is that really what this song is about?
Anyway, Effy and Katie use the hullabaloo to lace the brownies with MDMA.
Naomi trudges up to Panda’s door and hears the singalong happening in the kitchen, and so she puts on that face she sometimes does, like she’s wondering if she’s stepped into a parallel universe where everyone is off their nut, like with Arse-isa. Creepy next-door-neighbor is creepy, but Naomi doesn’t jump the shrubbery and bludgeon him with his pruning shears because Emily wanders up and calls out, "Hi!"
Naomi sighs because she still hasn’t figured out that throwing herself into Emily’s path is going to result in her … being in Emily’s path. It’s honestly like her body just takes her to these places of its own volition. Naomi smiles to herself, her brain catching up with her feet: F–king hell, did it again! She turns around to face Emily, holding — note — an armful of alcohol between the two of them.
Emily: I’ve never been to a pajama party before, so I brought vodka. Is that right?
Emily: I don’t wear pajamas?
And, I just — Emily Fitch is just magical. I know I’m always going on about how Effy has magic, and she really does, but it’s very powerful, very general Veela magic that blinds men with lust and then kills them. Emily’s magic is particular and she keeps it locked down most of the time, but if she wanted to seduce you — if it could ever be just about the sex for her, and not also the thing behind the sex — you would wake up tomorrow morning completely naked, feeling like the opposite of a hangover, chuckling for you don’t even know why, reaching out to hug the sunlight, with no memory of what happened last night except that it was the very most awesome thing in your grownup-life — and then you’d realize you were floating above your bed a little and covered in crimson-colored fairy dust. I don’t wear pajamas?