Perhaps it was planned, that the jugs WERE much larger than they needed to be, and crafted of something heavier than necessary; it seemed to grow heavier, even though she was pouring wine out of it, and Felicity's arms were starting to ache with the tension of her careful pouring by the time the pretty, cold-featured young woman stopped her mid-pour.<br/><br/>Trying to keep smiling, though it grew increasingly strained, Felicity aimed the mouth of the jug carefully, hoisting the butt end to coax a thin stream of wine out into the goblet. She kept it low, desperate to keep from splashing - and then she felt the metal just slide in her nervously sweating palms. The upper lip bumped against the goblet, and there was no way to reach out and stop it from tilting with mocking slowness, and tumbling onto its side with a clatter, wine streaming across the table and onto the floor while she stepped back, jerking the jug upright and hugging it close against herself in shame and fear.<br/><br/>"My.... my lady, I am sorry.... I'll fetch a cloth!" she stammered, and turned, ready to dash for the kitchen, knowing there were rags there.