Adelia blinked, caught off-guard more by the whirlwind of energy that was Eliot than the accidental swipe of his arm. Still, her grip on her glass stayed solid, and after the initial jolt of surprise, a quiet laugh slipped from her lips. His expression alone, equal parts horror and over-the-top dramatics, was enough to break any tension. “You’ve got a dangerous storytelling technique,” she said, her voice light with amusement. “Do they always come with live-action demonstrations?”

Her smile reached her eyes as she watched him whirl around to appease the group behind him, declaring the brutal truth of his tale’s ending like it was a Shakespearean monologue. Adelia shook her head with another soft laugh. “You really committed to that one.” When he turned back to her, empty cup in hand, she lifted her own modest glass of water in return, shrugging slightly. “I don’t drink, actually. I like to keep my head clear around strangers… you never know when someone’s gonna go full helicopter with their arms.”

Her tone was teasing but warm, her posture relaxed. The energy in the room still buzzed, but Eliot’s presence had made it easier to stay grounded in the moment. Socializing wasn’t her strongest suit, but this—this felt manageable.

As he offered his arm toward the bar, she didn’t hesitate. With a soft grin, she looped her free hand around his elbow and gave it a mock-serious tug. “I’m taking you hostage. You hit me, so now you’re responsible for my safe passage to the snacks.” She nodded forward. “Lead on, chair-slayer.” As they made their way through the crowd, she tilted her head toward him, sipping her water between steps. “So, Eliot McCail... what’s your major? I'm Adelia, by the way. Adelia Sailee.”

Her eyes wandered toward the long table set up near the far wall—white cloth, polished trays, and a generous spread of options. 'Something light, but not heavy,' she thought as her gaze danced over cookies, sliders, chips, and cut fruit. Her eyes settled on a platter of little toothpick skewers—cheese cubes, grapes, and tiny bits of cured meat.

[i]Perfect.[/i]

Her grip on Eliot’s arm loosened just enough so she could motion toward the table. “I hope you weren’t planning on sprinting back to your fans, because I plan to fully judge this food before committing to anything.”