Set at a night of feasting before the tournament

The week-long celebration of life is going to kill her liver, honestly. Actually, probably not, because Fleetwood isn't partaking of the fermented fruit. No, she's pacing around the party, flitting from person to person and never staying too long, because her energy is just through the roof. She's already spoken to Valeska and Nemean about potentially staying. She'll just have to talk to Arvid to confirm it's what he really wants.

But when would a good time be? Hm.

She's pondering that when her wandering shifts her to the edge of the party and a soft-colored wolf that she should have recognized. But not recognizing the rocky relationship between Elysium and Avon, she instead focuses on the sad look in the other woman's eyes.

"Aw, darlin'," she starts, "did the fruit make something come up?" Her brows knit as she comes a bit closer.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on one's viewpoint, Fleetwood is not the kind to be deterred by a single dismissal. But she also knows better than to pressure a stranger for their life stories right away. This requires a different plan of attack.

"It ain't a huge deal, really. I want to meet new people." Fleetwood takes a seat, smiling. "It's a party, you should be having fun. I'm Fleetwood, and if you don't wanna talk about it, you don't gotta."

If it comes out naturally, Fleetwood will listen, of course. "We can do something fun instead, if that'll help more." It could be something as simple as having had too much to drink, honestly. Perhaps Fleet's going to have to take those berries away.