Refreshments Table: Jamaal and Open
Andrei accepted the boy's hand, always going in for the very firm handshake. The squishy one. Andrei didn't consider it dominance or bullying or just being a dick: it was just how he was. "Andrei," he drawled. "Andrei Dantură."
Andrei leaned against the table. If he'd drunk liquids other than blood, he'd offered Jamaal his own to ice up, but alas. And blood -- well, blood tasted better when it was warm. "Jamaal," he repeated, his accent warping the name slightly, "you the new kid, right? What else can you do?"