Jean-Claude sits, patting himself down with napkins as several waitresses and the manager nearby fuss about whether they should bring him ice, if he should like for them to call an ambulance, and so on and so forth. Apparently a freshly brewed pot of coffee is rather hot, and if Jean-Claude were not a vampire, and one of significant years at that, he would probably have reacted in a manner more like an ordinary man might have done in such a situation.

As it was, this is more of a nuisance than anything else. He cannot hunt here anymore, not in a crowd that has just spent the last minute or so fussing over him. And his shirt will probably never be the same again. Combine that with the fact that any normal man really would have been seriously injured and by this and in order to fake it he's probably going to have to at least pretend to go seek medical attention, and it's all pretty much gone to pot.

He looks up and though it takes him a moment he breaks into a smile as he recognizes the face. Quelle coincidence, n'est-ce pas?

"Ahhh. Have you come to rescue me, mon capitaine?"