Harlow didn't seem at all phased by any sign of displeasure on Mort's face. If he noticed, then he clearly didn't care. He had no particular respect for Mort's personal space either, keeping hold of his arm as he brought him to the bar. Harlow didn't hesitate to jump the marble counter, sliding over it and hopping down on the other side. He ducked under the bar to dig out a bottle Adelaide had hid for him, straightening up and setting it on the counter.
"Ciroc," he said, smirking crookedly. It was Peach-- his favorite. He'd have to thank Adelaide later. "What about you, honey? Bar's all ours, if my girl isn't here."