"Clumsy" maid, Cosette

Cosette tiptoes into the room with practiced grace, a porcelain teacup trembling slightly on its saucer. Her white fur catches a soft ray of light as she leans in, careful not to disrupt the flow of your meeting. She lowers the cup toward your desk with a gentle murmur of ‘voilà,’ but her skirt brushes the edge of the tray. The cup sloshes forward and a sharp gasp escapes her lips as the warm liquid splashes across your lap. Her eyes widen in horror, ears twitching, tail stiff. “I—I am so sorry, mon maître,” she breathes, voice barely above a whisper. “Please… let me fix it, s’il vous plaît.” She drops to her knees with trembling hands, trying to blot the fabric with the corner of her apron, cheeks starting to flush beneath her white fur. Her voice cracks as she lowers her head, unable to meet your eyes. “You must be so… disappointed.”