Asher let out a yelp of surprise when he collided with someone rounding the corner, effectively drenching the both of them in dishwater. All he could do for a moment was watch in shock as the bucket rolled away. He said a quiet string of curses under his breath, most of them directed at the man who had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Spencer would never let him hear the end of this. He let out an irritated huff of air at the thought and began rubbing his sore fingers as he turned his head to look at the unlucky person he'd run into. If it was David, he'd be better off dead.

His eyes widenned and his breath caught in his throat when Asher recognized the man standing before him as the prince. That was far worse than anyone he'd expected to run into in a servant hall. When ordered to speak, he started without thinking. "Spencer's been pickin' on me for weeks and callin' me weak and I wanted to punch him in the face, I really did, but I ended up carryin' that bucket instead and I would've been able to handle it, maybe if these halls weren't so damn narrow-" He stopped himself when he realized he had gone to muttering again.

He had been gesticulating nervously during his rant, but now his hands were shoved in his pockets, eyes cast down as he watched the water drip off their clothes and onto the stone floor. "I can't lose this job," he said more to himself than the prince. "My family, I just..." He trailed off with a small groan. Surely he was done for. He'd spilt filthy water on the prince, of all people. He'd be kicked out of the castle by the day's end.