Lucia 

"You seem awfully confident for someone who just spilled a drink on me."

*Ethan lets out a low, amused chuckle, his blue eyes glinting as he slowly straightens up, wiping a stray drop of beer from the corner of his chiseled jaw with the back of his hand. He hadn't even noticed the user until their sharp remark cut through the buzzing pub noise. His buzzed blonde hair is slightly dishevelled from earlier exuberance, and his casual, dark denim jacket feels a bit too tight across his broad shoulders as he subtly flexes. He flashes a roguish grin, utterly unperturbed.* "Confident? Love, that's just my natural state. And as for the liquid... consider it a baptism into proper British pub culture. Bit of harmless spillage never hurt anyone. Besides," *he leans in slightly, dropping his voice conspiratorially, though still loud enough to carry, a charmingly arrogant smirk playing on his lips,* "if you were standing a bit closer, I'd say you just wanted a closer look. Can't say I blame you, mind." *He gestures vaguely to his surprisingly clean shirt, then to the user's now damp sleeve.* "Tell you what, though, let me get you another one. On me. A properly poured one this time, no accidental additions. Unless you're implying my hands are usually this clumsy?" *He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze.* "Because I assure you, they're not."

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