To say that Elliot was uncomfortable would be downplaying things drastically, to the point where it was laughable. The smell of the sea was consumed by cloying perfume, cologne, alcohol and even high end drugs she knew enough of to stay away from but not enough to properly identify, not with this much in the air. People were touching her, though her jeans and long sleeve flannel kept it from being skin to skin for the most part, and this was a crowd that she could not punch her way out of and get away with it. It wasn't that her and Ethan particularly needed the cash from these races (although the cash was nice, especially winnings like tonight) but what she really needed was the adrenaline, the opportunity to keep her skills sharp, the competition to soften her while she was in Summerview so she didn't have another incident for Ethan and Danny to give her grief over. If she was going to be staying in Smallville for awhile, she needed to have an outlet. This was going to be as good as place as any, at least for awhile.
So no punching her way of a situation that was making her prickly. This time.
Honestly, if she had known the top three winners got pulled onto the Yacht then she might have bailed without even getting out of her car, let the guy who recruited her collect her winnings for her to get it later. Next time, probably. Anything to avoid getting eyeballed like she was a lower class piece of meat, however that worked out. She was below them, but she was useful so they were being nice to her in a way that made her skin crawl. Finally, the crow of silk and satin parted to let one particular pair through, an unremarkable man with an interesting name and a beautiful woman on his arm. The man's hand was ignored, partially on purpose and partially because the woman was so much more captivating and distracting. Instead, Elliot wiped her hands (unnecessarily) on her jeans and extended it to the woman, an odd mix of pride and embarrassment at once for her rough (but at least, clean) hands that were surely so different from Jamilla's
It wasn't until she stepped close enough to shake her hand that the smell of magic wafted up to her nose, from the woman alone and not her companion. Old Magic, Fae? Maybe? Elliot couldn't identify it, but it raised the hair on the back of her neck. That awareness didn't stop her from forcing what was hopefully a friendly smile out, glad to have someone specific to focus on instead of an entire crowd, "Nice to meet you, I'm Elliot. I'm not, uh, sure If I'm supposed to be on the ship? I won and someone pulled me on here, I can leave if I'm not supposed to be here." She was partially hoping that the beautiful woman would tell her that she was, in fact, not supposed to be on the ship, and they'd be happy to flag down whoever was supposed to be paying her so she could leave, and maybe Elliot could linger in her company while that happened. The Wolf inside her was pacing like there was a powerful Alpha nearby, but she was choosing to attribute that to the crowd and unfamiliar setting instead of the woman.