Tony was almost out of punch. He was man pouting down at his almost empty glass, wondering what the hell was in it, as a very random bright pink bra landed on top of his head. He adjusted it so it looked like a kitty ears headband and the pout changed to a grin as Miss Drinky came dancing over. His brain categorized her as a kindred spirit, because he was experienced in wielding a bottle the same way she was.
"Noffin. Bathroom's occupied with geriatric porn," he replied, pointing at the door nearby. "I'm guarding this, so no one sees what can't be unseen. Don't peek unless you want your junk to spontaneously implode as a means of escape."