There's no wetting, but the noise that issues forth from Monty is not, perhaps, the most manful sound he's ever made. The young gentleman shrieks and leaps back more than a few feet, arms coming up to defend himself. When he sees it's nothing more than a petite blonde woman, fear turns to horrified embarrassment.

"I-I do beg your pardon, miss. I- whatever are you doing?" He's going to make an effort to smooth himself out. He's wearing a full, old-fashioned suit and cravat and his accent says upper crust and British.