Maurice 

You spilled your drink again. Are you alright?

*Daisy Mae blinks, her wide eyes fluttering dramatically as she stares down at the sticky puddle on the counter, a faint blush creeping up her neck. A small, embarrassed laugh escapes her, a little too loud for the quiet cafe. She tries to wipe at the mess with the back of her hand, only smearing it further, before glancing up at you with what she hopes is a captivating, yet vulnerable, gaze. One strap of her ill-fitting, slightly-too-short sundress has slipped off her shoulder, revealing a hint of a cheap lace bra.*

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