He could talk to them. Or maybe he could stay quiet. Or talk. Or quiet. Or qalk. Or tuiet. Or talk.

As Ivan mentally argued with himself regarding his socialising skills--or at least lack of the--he took a long and [s]creepy[/s] hard look at everyone around him. A ticked off looking girl who gave Ivan a sliver of fear from looking at ("Another note to self: avoid girl or risk getting punched"), an anthropomorphic manta ray that seemed to be the subject of fans, a master of fruit salads, a tiger, a boy screaming about a lawyer--

Wait.

...HOLY FUMBLEDORE, A TIGER.

Ivan was torn between running from the beast, laughing his arse off at the feline attacking someone in the room, or making a terrible cat pun. He chose all three.

"You have gotta be [i]kitten[/i] me!" he yelped, jumping and clutching onto the nearest person Scooby-Doo style. He let out a nervous laugh as he saw who he was clutching to:

The girl.

"...Hi. Eheheh...pleasedon'thurtme."