Field note. The females of the species have assembled in a corridor that reeks of ammonia and fermented fruit, standing single file outside two locked cubicles, awaiting access to a facility for waste elimination.
They do not simply wait. Observation revised: waiting is not the primary activity. In the queue, unrelated specimens make contact. One female compliments the pigmented outer layer of another's mouth. A third, weeping saline from both eyes, is immediately surrounded, gripped by the shoulders, and told repeatedly that she is "so pretty," which does not cause the leaking to stop but does cause the volume to increase. This is logged as a comfort ritual, though its mechanism appears counterproductive.
The queue moves at intervals of approximately four minutes. This exceeds the biological requirement for elimination by a wide margin. Inside the cubicle, then, some secondary and unknown process occurs. Two specimens sometimes enter together, an inefficiency I cannot explain.
Further data: strangers exchange coordinates. Numeric strings are transferred between glowing rectangles with great urgency and vows of permanent alliance. Cross-referenced against prior fieldwork, these alliances have a documented survival window of nine hours. They will not remember each other's designations by morning.
The music through the wall is loud enough to distort tissue. No one can hear anyone. They lean in, mouths against ears, and speak anyway.
Provisional conclusion: the facility is not for waste. The waste is the pretext. The true function is the corridor, where the herd, briefly separated from the males and the noise, repairs itself in the dark using compliments, saline, and lies it does not intend to keep. Astonishingly effective. Recommend continued study. The species heals in the ammonia and calls it needing to pee.