Dustin's eyes widened and he brought his coffee cup up to shield his face from view as he dug around for a tissue. "Right! Right. It's just blood. Nothing to worry about," he assured her, blushing furiously and ducking his head. Ah, yes. Just blood. Like that was reassuring.

"I-I just need to grab a mop, real quick," he held up a hesitant pointer finger as though asking her to wait, then excused himself with a quick little bow. The nearest broom closet was only a few doors down and he swiped his clearance card and darted inside. Obscured from view, he took a steadying breath. Things were going pretty good, all things considered. He'd made worst first impressions... And Heather had been pretty chill about getting spilled on. If he got her new shoes, they'd be square, right?

His nose had stopped trickling ink, which was good. This form's resistance to the hallucinogenic compounds it contained was limited. The last thing he needed was to get woozy on top of everything else. He put the used tissues into a biohazard bag and tucked it out of sight.

He was much more composed (though still somewhat nervous) as he returned to Heather, pushing a sudsy bucket of water with a mop. "S-so your debriefing must have gone well. Congratulations."