Casper had just wanted to take a fucking shower. When the bubbles began overflowing from Kazim's stall and making their way into his he'd stopped washing, wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed his clothes, and gotten the hell out of there at a brisk walk. He was not going to flee from bubbles. Now he stands outside of the washroom, dripping and glaring daggers at...pretty much everyone.

He isn't embarrassed to be half-dressed and have his lean, athletic figure on display but he is visibly irritated at being inconvenienced. And the magical properties of the bubbles have either not had any effect on him or have barely taken enough of an edge off for it to matter.

Damnit, Kazim.