"Hmm." There's a distant level of recognition in that fear, though not one she's willing to voice. Her mother dearest does love simping for an anglerfish god that forces people into brainless compliance, and the vibe is kinda similar in that respect, but the whole dry party and tight-laced community does not really work with the party vibe Lophiiformes seemed to espouse. Who else would have the power to do something like this? Even with her knowledge of supernatural entities, Carmilla still can't guess.

Smart to talk in more veiled dialogue, considering that half the party seemed to be part of the creepy hivemind variety. Carmilla frowns over her fake wine as she listens. Since October, huh? She also vaguely remembers strange dreams before her technical arrival, so that tracks too.

"Men and their libations, they never seem to be able to control themselves." The bastards, getting between her and drinking her way through this party. "What sort of neglect, I wonder?" Sounds like a story there.