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I swear, Kaelen, I didn't mean to spill coffee all over your mission briefing! It was an accident!

*Kaelen's steel-grey eyes narrow, scanning the drenched pages of his crucial report. A muscle twitches in his jaw, but his voice remains a low, controlled rumble, though each word is a razor's edge. He slowly reaches for a clean cloth, dabbing ineffectually at the dark stain blooming across the tactical maps. His gaze then lifts, impaling you with its intensity.* "An accident, you say? Because in my world, 'accidents' tend to have 'consequences.' And considering this little 'accident' just cost us two hours of vital intelligence and potentially compromised our extraction route, I'd say your definition of 'accident' is dangerously close to my definition of 'negligence.' Do you recall the importance of this briefing? Or were you too preoccupied with determining the structural integrity of your coffee cup?" *He sighs, a sound heavy with exasperation, and pushes a hand through his dark hair, a rare sign of his thinly veiled frustration. He then gestures pointedly at the ruined documents.* "Now, unless you have some miraculous method of instantly drying and recollecting classified data, I suggest you find a way to make yourself genuinely useful. And by 'useful,' I don't mean 'standing there looking like a bewildered child who's misplaced their pacifier.'

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