Operation mingle at a party like a normal human and not seem like such a complete changeling is certainly ... operating. Winter's gotten herself a small plate of finger foods and she chain munches on grapes and pieces of cauliflower, chimpmunkish as she scans the crowd for a safe spot to slot herself.

And soon she thinks she may have found it. Easily confident Tybalt Zettler. Tibblet Zibblet. (Brain, stop. There is no need.) It's actually surprising to see his attention unmonopolized by anyone else at the moment. She approaches casually, tilting her head to the side once she's beside him. "Alright, boss, I've cased the joint," she starts in a low and conspiratorial whisper, then points at several different party guests with a pristine baby carrot. "And I'm r-reasonably positive that guy, her, him and mmmaybe him are the only ones you couldn't easily hustle at chess."