Faolan shifted his coffee to his free hand, shaking his now dripping one off for a moment before deciding he's already got enough of it on his jeans that wiping his hand off on them won't do any added harm. (Besides, that's what nature intended jeans to be used for in the first place.)

"I'll live," he replied gruffly, tilting his coffee to peer at how much of it he had left versus how much he was wearing. It wasn't a good ratio. He glanced back at the other, seeing that he's clearly feeling abashed by the action. Wondering whether a little niggling would hurt anyone. "I could use another coffee, though," he said, mildly. Maybe another change of clothes as well, but that was neither here nor there.