So they had lost, and Chloe was pissed off at the little Legacy and Jesse grabbed her and ran to meet the Green Bay Packers and Kommissar was jumping and pointing at herself during appropriate portions of Pieter's altered version of "Jump."

Everything was going swimmingly until she and Jesse separated and that goddamn frustratingly tall German walked up to her at the punch bowl, alone this time, to start yet another confrontation.

"Feisty maus," she greeted Beca cheerily, a little too close for comfort.

"Kommissar?" she practically squeaked out, turning and raising her voice in question. The blonde looked amused at her intonation and stepped just a hair closer.

"Maus, you know my name?" she grinned, "I am flattered." The blonde widened her eyes and looked down at Beca, smirking.

"That can't possibly be your real name!" she replied, a little too loud and a little too aggressively for the space. From the other end of the refreshment table, Chloe perked up and turned her head, looking at the DJ with her eyes narrowed. Beca had to keep it cool.

"Perhaps not," the blonde blinked lazily.

"Look, do you have to stand so close to me?" Beca questioned after a short pause. Chloe was leaning in now, trying to eavesdrop.

The blonde rolled her eyes a little and stepped even closer. "Based on your earlier comments, maus, it would seem you want me this close," she articulated slowly with a wide, confident grin.

Blushing furiously, Beca reacted as best she could: "I think I'd like you to keep your gorgeous blonde head away from me!"

Kommissar grinned at this and replied "As you like," turning slowly and sauntering away. Beca found her eyes trained on the movement of her ass in those tight black pants, wondering at the German's muscle tone and the way those heels just… lifted everything right up. Her jaw dropped slightly as she pondered, and at that very moment, Kommissar turned her head back and smirked, remarking loudly: "I see now why you wanted me to leave." Beca blushed hard and turned her attention back to the table, filling a fancy glass tumbler with a healthy helping of scotch, something she had never had before but felt appropriate for this stressful and baffling night.

She took a long sip of the scotch, and Chloe sidled up to her, concern written on her face. "Beca, you really seem off," she began. Beca waved her off. "No, seriously, Beca," she continued, "You haven't seemed focused on the group, you're saying crazy stuff every time you're near that DSM girl, and you and Jesse have hardly spent any time together these last few weeks. What's going on?"

Emotional conversations don't come naturally to Beca Mitchell, and they certainly don't come naturally in the crowded basement of a multi-millionaire a cappella superfan's mansion. Despite wanting to connect with Chloe, Beca replied noncommittally: "No, it's really nothing, Chlo. Don't worry about it," and walked off with her drink to meet up with Jesse. Maybe spending time with him could level out some of the weirdness.

She found Jesse playing flip cup with some of the other Trebles and Tonehangers. It initially seemed like an odd game for such a fancy party, but then she noticed their host egging Benji on at the other end of the table.

Jesse had been a constant in her life for the past three years. He was stable, loyal, and loveable, and he had gotten her through many rough times: tough rehearsal weeks with the Bellas, 6 semesters' worth of final exams, and the inevitable stresses that came with sharing a campus with her father.

Recently, though, he had felt less like a boyfriend and more like a quirky brother, which: ew. Beca wasn't sure why their romantic feelings had faded. It might have had something to do with their many commitments and responsibilities, both a cappella-wise and academically; it might have been that talented, beautiful film student he couldn't stop talking about last year; or… something else entirely. Regardless, she wasn't sure where it left them.

Shaking off her thoughts, Beca tapped Jesse on the shoulder.

"Be-caw!" he shouted as he whirled around "Been missing you, dude!" He engulfed her in a bear hug, then pulled away, holding her shoulders. "We are killing it at flip cup, Becs," he informed her emphatically, leaning in on "killing it." He released her shoulders and moved aside, inviting her to stand next to him.

She shook her head, pointing at her glass with a flick of her wrist. "I think I've got plenty to drink."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Be-caw!" He smiled at her. "Oh shit!" He exclaimed shortly after and turned around to chug his beer; he had almost missed his turn.

Watching him, Beca smiled with her mouth, but her eyes didn't crinkle. She took a sip from her scotch and coughed a little, then felt several slaps on her back that made her cough even more. "Jesus!" she cried out, mid-cough, and looked to her right.

"Oh…" Fat Amy trailed, "I thought that would help you."

"Not so much," Beca sputtered.

"Sorry…" the Australian responded, "Hey," she continued, dragging a still-recovering Beca a few more feet away from the flip cup game, "How are you doing?"

Finally back on her feet and cough-free, the DJ inspected her friend with a furrowed brow, wondering how Fat Amy knew what was up. "… What?" she settled on after a pause.

Fat Amy sighed and pulled her a bit farther from Jesse and the game. "I know things haven't been great with you and Jesse for a while," she said with no trace of doubt, "and now you get all tongue-tied around that sexy German dominatrix." Beca's eyes were wide with shock as Fat Amy continued: "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

Somehow Fat Amy's perpetually honest style got to her a little more than Chloe's, and she opened her mouth to respond, but found herself staring at Jesse in silence instead. A few moments passed with Fat Amy staring at her calmly before she responded: "No, no. Everything is fine, dude."

"Okay," Fat Amy replied, "just let me know if I need to cap anyone." She leaned in slightly, "'Cause I will," she winked slowly, "if needed."

"That definitely won't be necessary," Beca responded firmly but playfully. "Thanks, Fat Amy."

"Anytime, BM," she replied.