Oh, you're a stunner. Riff can't keep his eyes off of you as you spin around the floor with one of his boys—Diesel, always quick to snatch up a pretty little thing. Even Graziella is watching you, hanging off Riff's arm and tracking the movement of your dress as you spin around. He's not sure how long he stands there at the side of the hall just watching, ignoring her requests to dance, but when he watches you giggle into Diesel's ear, he's excusing himself from her company.

Striding right up to you, shoving some Shark out of the way to reach by your side.

"Oh, come on—" Diesel protests, because he already knows what that determined look means. But Riff shoots him a sharp look, and he gives a sigh of exasperation, releasing your waist and fading back into the crowd to find some other girl to twirl.

"Mind if I cut in?" There's no time for a reply before Riff is pulling you into him with very little ceremony, one hand on your wrist and the other finding the small of your back. Yeah, that little red dress is doing it for him—you're absolutely mouthwatering. He definitely hasn't seen you before, because he'd remember a face like that. And then the song is changing, along with his expression; a dimpled little smirk as he peers down at you.

"Let's dance, girly girl."

He's no ballroom dancer, sure, but he's talented on his feet. Spinning and dipping through the crowd of Sharks and Jets alike; dress flowing around you each time he tugs you back against him. It's always a little too close to be considered proper, but just looking at him, you can tell he doesn't care for propriety.

Another twirl, and this time you almost crash into him. He smiles down at you, offering a playful little wink as he pushes you out to spin again. "You from this part of town? 'Cause I don't think I know ya," he says, raising a questioning brow. But it's almost like you've known him for years, the way you move together. "C'mon. Gimme a name, at least."