The man, not entirely following what she was asserting, raised his glass out of habit. Except: glasses collided. They collided hard. Wine was everywhere. There were a few raindrop-sized beads of red on Nisa’s sleeve, but the vast majority of it doused the inebriated man.

“What!? What have you done!” he hollered, looking down at himself and then to her in rage. Who are you!?”

“Now dear, I never even liked this suit on you,” the woman with him said boredly with arched brows, stepped back from the faux carnage.

“Well, I did!” he roared. “You listen here! We are surrounded by witnesses-” a bunch of heads whipped away from gawking when he gesticulated to them, “and this suit cost a small fortune! Where do you live!”