Ahem. "Good day, Ms. Nel."
Talk about awkward. One backstage mishap with a dressing room and someone's printed dozens of custom T-shirts... 'Nelteth'. Wretched word. Not even 'Sel'.
Seteth says nothing of it. But both managers are to sit with each other during their little ones' game show, and as such, he holds the dignified stiffness of his spine even as he reaches for his bottled water and lifts it to thinly-pressed lips.
"Have your girls been well?"
It's always inevitable that her brief moments of serenity will come to an end... but usually, it's a slow cascade back into the chaos that surrounds her. This time, however, with an all-too-familiar voice addressing her, it's more like a car crash that Nel can do absolutely nothing to stop, every inch of her body immediately tensing up. Right. She knew this was going to happen. Did it mean she was prepared for it? No. Not in a million years. Not since the "Nelteth" nation attacked. (She already sees a few girls in the audience behind them, giggling and pointing in their direction. They aren't even DOING anything except sitting next to each other, and Nel briefly wants to shout at them to knock it off. She's more civil than that, though, and instead opts to turn her head away from them with a grimace.) "Good evening, Mr. Seteth. I am glad to see you well." Ugh. Even saying such pleasantries feels wrong, after their latest scandal-- WHICH WASN'T EVEN A SCANDAL-- that went viral. Her eyes flicker to his water bottle and then to his face, arms crossed over her chest as she arches a brow. "They've been doing great. Hard routines as usual, but it seems that their latest releases have them fired up. It's always wonderful to see them inspired by music of their own making- something they can draw upon their life experiences for." "It's admirable, truly. Th--" Nel sucks in a sharp breath there, eyes squeezed shut before she lets out a thundering A-CHOO that nearly shakes her out of her own seat. But clearly, it does that much for Seteth, and as she blinks a few times she comes to realize that she just knocked his water out of his hand, all of it spilling down the front of his shirt.
"Ah- damn it-- I'm sorry," Nel mumbles as she scrambles to her feet, hovering over him and reaching into her pocket to pull out a handkerchief. It's second nature to dab at his mouth, gently taking the bottle from his hand to set it aside-- after all, she's done this a million times before for a much younger version of her little brother, and it's really just instinct now. And of course it's a white shirt, too. She can't help it if her eyes wander a little bit, and she certainly can't help that her cheeks heat up ever so slightly. It's normal, to be caught in a position like this-- she's just embarrassed that she made such a blunder. That's all it is. She repeats this over and over as she dabs the cloth at his shirt, hands coming to pause over his chest. His chest that's awfully broad, barely covered by the tight confines of this shirt to begin with, and now that it's wet and pretty much able to be seen throu-- What is she doing. What on EARTH is she doing. She fumes for a moment before pulling herself away, flinging the handkerchief at his face before turning her back to him. REFUSING to look at him again. "I--- I can retrieve a new shirt for you, if you'd like. But for now, that's all I can offer you!"
(Later that night, Nel's phone is dinging quite a bit. When she opens it, the first picture she sees texted to her makes her scream-- the most unfortunate angle possibly caught of her liaison with Manager Seteth.) (She also has to purchase a new screen protector in the morning. For some strange, unknown reason, it seems hers has shattered.)
