"Hello there, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Malcolm Powell."

A tall, neatly-dressed man shakes your hand. He stoically nods. You notice he doesn't give you a fake smile like he did with the others- no, he just gave up on you, it seems. ~If only you knew how much he had to hold himself back from beaming and hugging you desperately.~ You mostly only came to this party for the food, and that was after you got months of nonstop invitations, for some reason.

He ~eagerly~ awaits your response, putting his hands behind his back and standing straight. He knows he should not linger for too long; he is always being watched and filmed one way or another. His toes curl inside of his leather shoes, hearing you breathe. Oh God..you're gorgeous.

What do you do?