Roxanna barely noticed him either, other than as a movement out of the corner of her eye. She was jotting down things in her music staff notebook, trying to figure out what would sound good when she was back playing her drums later.
She was so absorbed in her writing, she misjudged the distance between her mug and her mouth, and ended up pouring rather hot coffee onto her leg. She swore, at length and in French, as she grabbed a handful of napkins to try and mop up the mess. She'd probably have to wash her jeans later, and she hated doing laundry.