Book One, Chapter One, Post Fifteen

Oh no! And just when things were finally going my way! thinks Terrence, seeing the wine all over his lap. My big chance to prove myself! Then he sees the look of horror on the serving boy's face, and something inside of him cracks open, and holy ichor seeps into his blood. He calmly stands and gently rests his hand on the still stunned server's shoulder. "Think nothing of it, old fellow! These clothes are nothing but stock wardrobe from the poorest theater company in Old Asphyxten.” He removes the evening jacket and wipes his face with it. "Let me help you clean this up.

"Excuse me everyone!” Terrence says with a wave to the room, seeing how much attention he has attracted. “Entirely my fault. This poor fellow had the misfortune to wander by just as I was making a fool of myself! Please forgive me!" He then says quietly to the boy, "Let me help you clean this up, and these serious fellows can get on with their grave endeavors.” He kneels and starts picking up pieces of broken glass from the stone floor.

Everyone seems settled by Terrence’s words, though the young waiter continues to look rather anxious. People return to their food, through the tiny dog in the large woman’s lap lets out a growl at Bart up in the rafters. The creature is placated with finger scoop of the cream that tops the cobbler.

Flynn hesitates a moment at the spill, then graciously relaxes back into his seat, happy at the distraction for the overly chatty man. He rubs his wrist for moment, brows furrowed. "That was weird." He turns to Sabal and frowns. "It's been a long time since I was last in court like this. I think I've forgotten my most of my manners." He pushes his plate of cobbler away but samples the brandy before glancing at the small group approaching the High Lord. "Lizard man. Huh. Don't know how I missed that."