“Shit. Sorry.” Twisting my arm round revealed a yellow smudge on my jumper. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ve got this.” Thankfully, a napkin did a pretty decent job of mopping up the worst of it. Except—“Fuck, that’s the tablecloth. Nathaniel, I’m so sorry. I swear I had a napkin. Where’s my napkin? Fuck, it’s on the floor. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
