"No-go on the hairy feet here," Padma assured him. Trying not to laugh, she pressed her lips together and closed her eyes briefly. She'd read quite a lot; after all, it was a requirement of his job. From Quidditch biographies to Muggle true crime and, yes, even Muggle fantasies like The Lord of the Rings. "I don't smoke pipe weed either. Other than that, I suppose I am about hobbit-sized."
Out of the corner of her eye, Padma caught a familiar head of curly brown hair. Suddenly sucking in a deep breath, she tried to turn her attention to anyone else in the room, suddenly focusing wholly and completely on Stephen so that the room would stop spinning. Etienne was not going to have the satisfaction of seeing her upset. Already, he'd begun circling the room.
"Erm. Nothing scandalous yet, but the night's still young. Mr Totencourt -- the heavy set man with the tiniest glasses there," Padma made a small gesture in the man's direction. "My favourite game to play is: How many times will Mr Totencourt fall asleep standing up. He's one of my bosses. I lost count in the office, so I've decided to do specific events. Easier to manage that way. He even falls asleep in the middle of a conversation."
Another small gesture to an older woman nearby. "That is Miss Havisham. All right, so her name's not Miss Havisham, but I call her that on account of her never marrying and her niece--" Here, Padma paused to indicate a younger, snooty woman. Both were dressed to the nines, and both knew that men all over were eying them. "She's quite the vixen. Mind you don't get too close; she's venomous."