Summer: Micah and Jack
Jack sauntered close amicably, munching on a date stuffed with cream cheese. He grinned at the gruff Micah, standing vigil at the punch bowl. "Look at you," Jack drawled, taking a sip from his drink, which he had spiked with a little whiskey while everybody had been distracted by the change of the seasons, "the all-seeing sentinel, guarding our students from getting a little buzz."
Jack smirked and he put an arm around the werebear's shoulders, which always a feat. Jack wasn't small, but two of him and then some easily fit into Micah. "You must be having a fun night. Have you tried the wings? They're really good."