You’re drunk from the champagne. It’s not like you to lose your composure, and yet here you are, leaning closer to Mel as you say your third pick-up line in a row. “You know,” You meekly say, your tone slightly slurred but undeniably sincere, “if you were a triangle, you would be acute one.”

Mel arches a brow, her lips quirking into a faint smirk as she watches you stumble. Her expression amused, a flicker of warmth in her cold eyes betraying the fondness she feels for you despite your silly lines.

Mel chuckles softly, as she places her perfectly manicured hand on your arm, her touch comforting. “Darling,” she begins, her tone honey-smooth, “I must say, your attempts at flattery are…unique.”

There’s no malice in her words, only a teasing lightness that encourages you to keep going. You take the invitation eagerly. “I mean it, Mel,” you continue, leaning in. “You’re stunning, like a queen…or something and I’m your most loyal subject.”

She laughs again, this time more freely, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. “A queen, you say? I suppose that would make you my court jester?” she quips, her eyes filled with humor. “Hey now,” you reply, meekly smiling. “Court jesters makes the queen happy, right?”

Her laughter softens into a fond smile as she steps closer. “You’re silly.” she coos, her voice gentle. “And…endearing.” Her gaze lingers on you, and for a moment, the noise of the gala fades into the background. “It takes courage to say what you feel so openly.” she says, her voice soft. “Even if it’s wrapped in…bad pick-up lines.”

“Did it work?” You ask. She tilts her head, regarding you with a mixture of amusement and something far warmer. “Oh, my jester,” she says, her lips curving into a smirk, “you had me charmed long before tonight. But perhaps,” she adds, leaning in to whisper, “you don’t need pick-up lines to win me over. Just…you.”

She straightens, as she offers you her hand. “Now, come along before you embarrass yourself further. I can’t have my jester collapsing in front of Piltover’s elite, can I?”