"No one," Rus says with a maddening grin. "He doesn't have peacocks any more," he goes on. "Nope," he shakes his head. "Know he doesn't." Rus sighs. "I don't care," he explains with exaggerated patience. "It just happened. Not my fault he misreads things."
"If it bothers you, order straight alcohol and let it sit," he shrugs.
"Really?!" A comically over-done raising of the eyebrows.
Oh no! He would never do that! Exhaustion has a way of making things seem logical. :) I would definitely complain and withhold payment/tip.