Maria: Maria loved Sunday lunches. She didn't think of herself as particularly social, nor should she, but she certainly didn't dislike people. Peony was always so interesting and Aspel so quick. Almalexia, she thought, would grow into a fine woman once she found some confidence. She tried to catch her eye to give her a smile while she refreshed her tea.
Her pouring hand swerved outside the rim as she gasped a breath. The loud, hollow sound of a jug hitting the pavement drew stares. Thankfully, Maria had held onto her own and righted it before she made a mess of herself or anyone else.
She turned towards the wall slowly and, one by one, three men came into view. The first was tall and broad shouldered, his pale blonde hair turning white. Despite his prime condition, the lines on his face and skin identified him as older. He wore a brown linen jerkin and leather pants. The man next to him had short, chestnut colored hair styled like a man from the city, although his dress was similar, but he had a longbow strung across his chest.
The noise offender was a stricken looking younger man. His hair was a dark red and his skin the color of black tea with two dollops of cream. He was dressed like a nomad from the steppes, although his bow and short sword were Fighters' Guild issue. His brown eyes were watery and large and with his pug nose and clinging baby fat he looked utterly harmless. "M-m-m-my uh-uh-uh-puh-puh" he tried to stammer out, still pointing with a bandaged hand at the spilled water jug.
"He means to apologize, ladies, for the intrusion," the chestnut haired man said with a smile, his hand on his younger companion's shoulder for reassurance. The larger blonde man was already climbing over the railing for it.
"None needed, sir. Is he hurt?" All three of them did look sweaty and a bit worse for wear.
Peony: Perhaps it was something about Sunday afternoons, or a group of women enjoying one another's company, but this was hardly the first time they had been approached while trying to eat - it happened once every few weeks, though the methods varied in their creativity. Looking at the state of the men, it was even entirely possible that they had in fact simply lost control of the jug. Peony bent at the waist to pick it up, being closest to where it had landed - her shoes had not remained entirely dry, unfortunately - then offered it to the man who had by that time succeeded in scaling the rail to the clear displeasure of the cafe's well-dressed patrons. He gave her what he likely thought was a very dashing grin, and she smiled serenely back. "You needn't have taken the trouble; I would have fetched it for you." If it was just an honest mistake, it would be discharged this easily, with perhaps some healing for the boy, who looked petrified and a little flushed. Then again, he was also staring quite pointedly at Almalexia with an expression a bit like awe, which indicated that he might possibly suffer from an ailment completely unrelated to the bandage.