Before he managed to blurt out 'my what?', it registered that she was referring to his drink and, well, there wasn't much he could say about a float. It was a float. Sticky, sweet...
"It's... good." It was everything a float should be.
It was of little consolation that all the bright flashing lights had engaged her attention - he felt more at ease with himself when she wasn't looking at him, or asking him anything, or...
Well, it wasn't that he wanted her to go away and leave him alone. He just... needed time to get used to this.