<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/LUiBrTe.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Nate Phelps (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=281599.msg13853665#msg13853665)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Dark casual slacks, crisp white collared shirt, blue checked blazer (pictured)[/url]<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Hilton Lobby, then Ballroom<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Chrissa (Baylee), Open<br/><br/>He welcomed the hug, even if the embrace was a bit unexpected. When her arms went high, his went a bit lower, looping lightly around her mid-section, about midway between her breastline and her hips. Careful not to linger too long in the hug, he took a quick inhale through his nose, catching just a bit of fresh sweetness from her hair.<br/><br/>Now,<strong>"...perhaps a bit taller!"</strong>elicited a bit of a laugh as he took a half step back, his hand slipping up and under her elbow, holding it lightly where she’d extended to maintain light contact with his arm. Looking down, he made a bit of a motion with his free hand, “I don’t know how you could tell with those shoes on. I’m pretty sure you didn’t own anything like those 10 years ago. Your dad would’ve shot you.”<br/><br/>Without hesitation, he took her up on the offer of a drink at the bar, dropping his contact with her elbow almost reluctantly. On the short walk across the ballroom, he kept up the chatter. Casting a quick peek over Chrissa in Baylee’s direction, he smiled and nodded in her direction. “Of course I remember Bay! Partners in crime still, huh?” He laughed, sticking his outside hand in his pants pocket as they walked. “Nice to see you guys able to be so close still. That’s a real friendship.”<br/><br/>Upon reaching the bar, the hand came back out of his pocket and rested on the highly polished wood.<br/>“What would you like, Chrissa? This round’s my treat,” he smirked, knowing it to be a bad and old joke while silently chastising himself.<br/><br/><em> And you wonder why she broke up with you in high school. Bad jokes are bad jokes regardless of how old you are. </em><br/><br/>“Bulleit Manhattan for me, please, and for the lady..” His voice trailed off-he had no clue what Chrissa might order.<br/><br/>Once her order was placed, he took a minute, just to drink her in. Even when they were younger, Chrissa could dress to attract attention. From the time she’d hit puberty, her body allowed for it. But,<em>this</em>outfit was another level altogether.<br/><br/>As the bartender worked behind the bar to fix up drinks for the pair, Nate leaned against the hardwood a bit. “Can you believe it’s been 10 years? Doesn’t always feel like it. So? Tell me-how have you been? What have you been doing the last ten years?”<br/>