Natália and Van
Van was on his second beer, feeling it by now. Between pulls from his bottle, he took puffs from the blunt. Parties were stupid, it was true, and Van would soon leave to get back to his video games. But for now, curiosity made him stay and wander around, checking it out.
He had to backpedal to keep from getting trampled by a group of wrestling Ladons who were play fighting over who could throw who the furthest. Annoyance rippled over Van's face as he stepped around the boys and found an unused rock to perch on.
Van set his bottle on a flat surface and drew up his knees, smoking quietly. The voice next to him startled the kelpie into knocking over the beer and almost dropping the blunt. "Fuck--" He saw the last of the beer spill out into the dirt. Brushing droplets from his jacket, Van's dark eyes glared at Natalia.
"I've been to worse parties. Why are you sneaking up on people?" Van's gaze shifted down her form, and he cleared his throat. She was hot. He could do worse for company. Scooting over to make room on the rock if she wanted to sit, Van hoped he hadn't looked too stupid getting scared like that.