Colin + The Desert Wolf
"It's fu- Budweiser. I don't even drink this stuff to get drunk." Though Colin wasn't actually working, he was still surrounded by teenagers, and the curse almost slipped out. "Cachu ffycin," he muttered under his breath, glad he had Welsh to fall back on when he needed desperately to curse.
Colin dug out a bottle of water instead, and used that to rinse the taste of the beer out of his mouth. He wouldn't drink that night, which was probably for the best; he didn't need to drive home tipsy and he was meant to set an example for his students. Though it would be difficult to get through the night without something to fortify himself against the loud music (mostly things he didn't like, adding to the frustration) and loud teenagers.
"Should have brought my own."
The low light and flickering fire made it hard to actually discern individual features on people, so the biggest impression Colin got was of dark hair and a toned body, of strength and a smirk. The woman was older, possibly his age or a bit older - difficult to figure out in the firelight - old enough that he didn't feel awkward or weird talking to her, especially about beer of all things.
Surrounded by teenagers on a daily basis, and now surrounded by teenagers at a bonfire that basically doubled as a rave, Colin appreciated the chance to talk another adult. Although he talked to his fellow colleagues at school every day, they were coworkers, and that did influence his interactions slightly.
Colin stepped a little closer, just so he could both talk and hear over the music. "You seem a bit old for the crowd. What brings you here?"