Steve accepted the napkins - made up in a pinwheel of red, white and blue, of course - with a nod of thanks, quickly wiping his hand and then bending to swipe the small puddle on the floor. The floor seemed alright, but his hand now had streaks of pink over his knuckles. Lovely.

"Oh, this is me being downright dashing, lemme tell ya," he replied, his tone clearly conveying sarcasm. His own Brooklyn accent was faint but distinct, from being back in the City after his years overseas. "Usually I'm sweeping women off their feet by now - no, wait, I mean 'driving them away in droves'."

Marie, however, didn't seem to be backing away with a thinly-veiled look of distaste, so Steve counted it as a win. He switched his drink to his left hand and held out his right. "I'm Steve. And I'd like to say I'll be able to handle a few ladies getting handsy... but I probably won't." He'd learned early on in life that if he didn't make fun of himself first, someone else would. He didn't get the sense that Marie was making fun of him - more like making fun with him, which he appreciated. She seemed nice, and just the sort of person he liked to see at projects like this.