Eshe keeps her eyes glued to the man while frantically searching the table top behind her back for something to grab. She feels out the handle to a pitcher and wraps her fingers around the handle just in time to thrust the glass forward, its icy contents splashing both the jester and Damien.
“Oh! Damien!" Eshe gasps, turning to grab napkins from the table as Damien remains frozen with the back collar of the jester secure in his hand. He accepts the fabric and pats his face dry with his free hand; Eshe's eyes wander to the wet path down his chest and stomach, the fabric clinging to his defined chest and abdomen.
“What's going on here?" He asks, glancing from Eshe to the jester, shaking the man.
“Nothing, nothing," the jester says, flailing his arms and pulling free from Damien.
“It
