Daphne and George
George was currently on his third glass of champagne and his fourth puffy baked thing with cream, not particularly caring about what either might do to his waistline. He licked a bit of sugar from the side of his hand and turned, but nearly bumped into the person behind him.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said, reaching up to lift his hat in a polite gesture.
The young woman was familiar. George was generally good with faces and with names due to interacting with so many people in the public. He also tended to read the society columns a little more these days after spending so much more time with Pansy. He grabbed another flute of champagne and held it out to Daphne Greengrass who looked like she didn't want to be there.