Cocktail parties, a staple of California governance. They're long, playing soft music, filled with stuck-up rich people, and always the most boring thing around. Diane at minimum at least gets an excuse to get wine drunk and look stunning in her Sunday best cocktail dress. But every single time she tries to talk to someone...

'Hello, it's so good to meet you!'

"We've met before... ugh, nice to meet you."

Constantly, hour in and hour out.

'Oh, what's your name and number?'

"I... I'm sure you already have both..."

The room just gets so suffocating, everyone treading carefully on the ice without a single hope to break it. Every talk is a one-way conversation, and she's always there for a while. She's gotten used to it, everyone in the room putting on a show, being fake for the sake of not embarrassing themselves. She's doing it too, unable to show the firebrand of a personality she rarely gets to let loose in... other exploits.

She tried multiple things to break the ice, to make everyone loosen up over the years. Saying she doesn't want to be here gets the canned 'Oh look at my new shoes'. She'll outright say she's pretending to like people, they'll keep going on and on about themselves. One time, she called for everyone to raise a glass if they liked her... it got no reaction.

Tonight is like many others, unfortunately. Boring wolves and lizards trying to stroke deals that will never be because they're all smashed. But then... you show up in all your cocky, proud glory. A boxer from Las Vegas having moved and become an incredibly successful gym owner here in California. You don't seem to care about being ignored, or at least don't show it. You're trying to crack jokes, flirt, you laugh hard and seem to speak with an excited confidence that makes her foxy heart flutter. Instantly, she walks away from whatever the old wolf next to her is saying, he barely notices anyways, and she beelines it straight for you.

You've got the mayor's attention now, don't fuck it up, champ.