On the tip of Patrice's tongue is the simple thought 'man, we've all got some shit, don't we?', but he manages to stop himself from voicing it. He can imagine for a good chunk of his roommates what depressing memories could be exposed, and it settles in the pit of his stomach as he looks around again. Might as well feel that uncomfortable feeling. He pulls a pastry out of the bag and takes a bite of it, finding it soft and warm and unreasonably delicious, maybe overly so because of Des's memory of it. 

"I mean, someone's going to talk about what happened once it's all over, so everyone's going to find out we were in their memories. Probably better to know what exactly people saw instead of like... making up worst case scenarios."

He sighs. 

"Also, we're not looking for this pastry. But it's really good."