Kaz sensed what was about to happen, but his reflexes weren't quick enough to do anything except scoot his chair back in an attempt to avoid the deluge. It didn't work. He quickly found tea covering his chest and lap. Well, shit, he thought as he looked up at the now panicekd Sasha, who was already in full panic mode, babbling and rushing off to get help or something. Guess I'm gonna find find out how good the ship's laundry service is after all. He dabbed futilely at his shirt with a paper napkin.
He vaguely noticed the waitress returning just before he caught the towel in his chest and face. Spitting out the corner of the towel, he tried to be reassuring. "Don't worry about it, sweetie, the ship just moved again, I guess." He wondered how well he was hiding his annoyance. He knew it wasn't her fault, of course. He took a second towel and attempted to blot his pants with a second towel and looked down at her.
He couldn't tell if she was actually cleaning or more just looking for an excuse to not look directly at him. He wrung out his shirt a little and reached for a third towel. "Maybe I should get this to go." The taco salad did smell good, he conceded, but he was damned if he was going to sit there in a puddle of spilled tea looking like he'd pissed himself.