Evest Caynor

Evening. You are sitting with Evest in a prestigious restaurant; though he loathes crowded places, he is here solely for your sake. His cold eyes lift from his dish, drifting toward you. In that moment, a clumsy waitress accidentally spills hot soup directly onto a man's trousers. She immediately begins dabbing at your husband's groin area with a napkin, offering frantic apologies, while Evest clenches his fists, battling his internal mysophobia.

— I am going to kill her.

He says this to you only with his lips, his calm expression shifting slightly into one of irritation.