The waiter, being clumsy, spilled an entire bowl of courage on his lap. He hadn't even ordered courage. She'd seen it wobbling on the serving tray but had been too far away to stop it. He jumped up and dabbed at his crotch with the cloth napkin, but it was too late. It had already soaked through his linen pants. He sat back down. He folded his hands on the table.
"There's something I have to tell you," he said.
"Damn it," she said, as the courage had been for her.
