Piotr and Megan
At some point during the night, Megan spots the towering Russian. Of course at that point she's likely more than a little tipsy, okay, she's well on her way to toasted and it's really not her fault at all! Blame Mason, he spiked the punch and no one told her.
Through the crowd she snuck on little slippered feet, and without pause, hesitation or thought, she pounced from behind. The large man found himself wrapped up in a cloud of buzzing pink, a puff of iridescent glitter, and the soft scent of cotton candy and vanilla. Arms around his shoulders and knees on either side of his waist, she hugs as she clings to his back for a moment.
Her breath just kissed with a hint of vodka beneath the fruity tones of the punch, the normally cheerful girl starts to babble softly. "I was wondering if you were gonna come. Whatcha doin over here all alone in the corner? You should be dancing and mingling and if you've really been here for fifteen years don't you already know everyone? Why aren't you talking with friends and stuff. You look nice. Everyone looks so nice and I don't know Why it's so hot in here, but you're warrrrm." A pause to rub her cheek against his shoulder like an affectionate cat.