Once in the mass that is the line for drinks, she stretches slightly, back arching slightly before turning her attention back to the gentleman at hand. At hand. That's funny.

She had just walked off with him, it had seemed so easy, so simple. There never seems to be any sort of internal warning system with her, just - go. Just - do. Never is there a thought that this person might wish to do her harm. The thought strikes her now, random, idle, like wondering if she had remembered to do something trivial.

"My name is Hope," because it's not always easy to get to know someone when you don't speak. "I am new here," and in general.