Couldn't They Have Said Something?

Today I showed houses for several hours to the parents of beloved past clients; the parents are planning to move up from California.  I picked the parents up at the home of the clients, who had just made chocolate chip cookies.  They asked if I'd like one for the road.  Well, of course I would -- who can resist a warm chocolate chip cookie?  I wrapped it carefully in the green and blue Art Deco-patterned paper napkin I was given, and tucked it in the door compartment of my car, to eat midway through the showing process -- after three hours of showing houses, I usually hit a spectacular blood sugar low and lose the will to live. 

I was very grateful for this cookie when the aforementioned death-wish occurred.  It was hot here today, and the chocolate was still kind of melty from the cookie being in the warm car.  There were a lot of chocolate chips in the cookie, I noticed, as I was nibbling it.  I tend to eat things very slowly, which isn't always the best policy in the case of things that are drippy and melty.  I enjoyed the cookie, and used the napkin (though not, apparently, well enough) -- and then about five minutes ago, after leaving the clients, I glanced in the mirror and discovered that I had some chocolate on my lip. It's been there for at least three hours. I went that whole time talking to these people and trying to sell them a very expensive house, with chocolate on my mouth like a slobby three-year-old.  I desperately tried to convince myself that they hadn't noticed, but I'm sure they did.  Then I tried to convince myself that maybe they thought it was a small deformity, rather than chocolate.  But I'm pretty sure that's not what they thought.  I don't know if I can face them again tomorrow.