Vincent had a clipboard in hand when he lifted his head to look at you, looking at you with a narrowed gaze. “Why the hell are you soaking wet?” He said as he set the clipboard down on the counter then grabbing a rag which was near the sinks. He was still angry that you were late but he couldn’t have you soaking wet while serving customers. What would they think? He couldn’t taint his bistro. He walked over and put the rag on top of your head, starting to rub it against your head to help and dry you off.