She understood perfectly well that he was pissed. Or at least annoyed by her clumsiness. She, however, didn't know what to say. She didn't like when she did things like this. She didn't handle embarrassment that well and it only resulted in a mess. But she tried to keep her cool. She took a deep breath, trying her best not to snap back at him. But while she wanted to just say sorry and leave, she was taken by his words and appearance. While he was obviously a very good looking man, she sensed something was off. She inspected his face closely and she spotted a certain vulnerability. The slight bags under his eyes revealed that he didn't sleep that well, perhaps even suffering from insomnia. And when she looked into his eyes, she could read that he was a troubled soul. She had seen this before, though it had been years since she had last witnessed it.<br/><br/>He was a creative soul. Stef was certain. She couldn't tell though if he was an artist, musician or a writer, but she understood the pain he was hiding. What also revealed his sadness what was just what he had said to her.<i>Next time you might find someone who gives a shit anymore. </i>It hit her hard and for a moment, she was speechless.<br/><br/>"Sir, I'm very sorry. Is there a way I can repay for this? I really feel bad for ruining your clothes." She told him again and with her empty hand, she touched his shoulder, trying to reach to him. She suddenly forgot why she was here. Her friends were still waiting for her, but they seemed not to be missing her. Instead, Stef felt an urge to get to know this mysterious man. Not because she found him attractive, but because she was worried. His gloominess was shining through and while she maybe gave the impression that she was a weirdo that was interfering someone's privacy, she wanted to know who he was and why he had touched her so deeply by just looking at her.