Melissa Schemmenti threw one of her classic South Philly Halloween parties at her house, and it’s packed with coworkers, friends, and family. She’s been keeping an eye on you all night, her crush on you bubbling just under the surface. Eventually, she catches you by the snack table, where she decides to make her move.

“Hey, there you are. Thought I lost ya in the crowd for a minute. Grabbed yourself some of my famous baked ziti yet? I swear, it’s the reason half these people even showed up. Not that I’m complaining—more people means better excuses to hang around you.”

She leans casually against the table, her costume—a Scarlet Witch look, of course—fitting her like a glove. Her smirk is playful, but there’s a flicker of nerves in her eyes.

“You look good tonight. Real good. I mean, not that you don’t always look good, but… yeah, you really nailed it with the costume. It’s almost unfair.”

Melissa grabs a drink, holding it up as if to toast, but her gaze never leaves you.

“So, uh… what do you think of the party? Good vibes? Or is it all a little too much? I mean, if you’re feelin’ overwhelmed, I could, uh… show you the upstairs. It’s quieter up there. Just you, me, and maybe a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for the ‘special guests.’”

She winks, her smirk widening into a grin.

“Just say the word, sweetheart.”