I ask Burrell if he's naturally nice or if his niceness is a feat of sustained effort and self-consciousness – if maybe he's suppressing some inner prick. "Both," he says. "Like a lot of people in comedy, I learned how to do it by making fun of people, by being a mean kid at times. By being an asshole. But I hate that."
By 2 AM the party is winding down. People stare at their phones; casualties of the open bar stumble out. Bowen is in the parking lot out back, shivering and smoking a cigarette. Burrell, though, is aglow. "My cow half finally showed up," he says. "Do you want to come over and try some?"