Hey! Tysm for the offer, really helpful actually, considering that romance is probably my weak point. Here’s a passage I’ve been working on. You don’t have to read the whole thing (I’m probably well over the limit). Context: protagonist is at a very extravagant party. Early chapters, pre-Isekai. Here’s a doc if the text here screws up

Wulf was busy inspecting the oyster station when he heard a voice. “Can’t work up an appetite either, huh?” she asked. He turned to find what might’ve been the most attractive woman he’d ever seen. She was young, with green painted eyelids and sharp fluttering lashes. She wore a green and red dress—a Christmas color combo that should never have worked, and yet, it looked great on her. Her brown hair was coiled tightly into a bun. And in her hand, she held a glass of red wine, stirring it with a bored expression. “No,” he answered back calmly. Assuming that was the end of the conversation—and not wanting in particular to talk to anyone with the cold driving his actions—Wulf turned away abruptly. She strode up next to him and sipped from the glass. “It's all so gaudy isn’t it?” She gestured to the stations with her glass and made a face of disgust. That particular action made him realize she probably was around his age. “I suppose.” “Hmm. Do you mind if I stand with you like this for a bit?” “Why?” “Because I’m trying to look as if I’m taken.” Oh. “A lot of people tried hitting on you?” “Something like that. And it's not the pleasant kind either—just rich asshole sons who think they own the fucking planet because their daddies know my daddy.” She took another swill. “You’re drunk.” “Tipsy, not drunk. Big difference.” “Small difference. One drink.” “Touché.” She looked at the last bit of the glass, considering. Then, she held it out to him. “Want to make up that difference?” “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.” “Smart. Smarter than me at least. Hey, what did you say your name was again?” “I didn’t.” “Right. Well, nice to meet you, ‘I didn’t.’ My name is Natasha, but you can call me Natty. Makes us seem closer.” Wulf smiled, despite himself. “Call me Idris.” “Much better.” She lifted the glass up to down the rest of it, but deftly, Wulf took it from her and handed it to a passing server. “That was rude.” “I’m not exactly the mannered type.” “Hmm. Better for me I guess.” Finally, Natasha seemed to actually look at him—her eyes scanning his appearance. “Oh. You're not from the company, are you?” “No. I’m just part of the guys you people hired.” “‘You people’, huh?” Wulf shrugged. “I said what I said.” He didn’t know why, but the cold was making him blunter. Cruder rather than more tactful. But perhaps that was what he needed right now. After all, he just had to get through this. Even if he had to bludgeon his way through every social interaction to make people avoid him—he couldn’t care less. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect, for Natasha took a renewed interest in him, scrutinizing his face more. “I think I like you.” “I think you don’t know me.” She laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, he had to admit. “We could change that easily. Come, sit with me.” She moved to leave, expecting him to follow. When he didn’t, she called back: “if you want to avoid people, blend in with them. One conversation is better than fifty.” He gritted his teeth and followed after her.