At the play party, in the left-hand back pocket of a nice pair of jeans, folded neatly around each other: a hunter green hanky (Daddy) and a red hanky (fister).
Oh, my! I think I was exercising admirable self-restraint in not leaping immediately upon the flagger. Instead I worked it ever-so-subtly into conversation with them and scored a request for my contact details. Which wouldn't actually seem like much of a score, but the person has since gone to some effort to contact me.
So despite my moments of pouting and and grumpiness, the party was quite productive.