[On a different day Tyki wouldn't be pushing his luck so much, but he really just hates that smile. Smugness incarnate, Cross Marian is, and Tyki's teeth just grit of their own accord. Fingers curled around the rosary beads, his hand jerks down through the top layers of the bar's polished surface. Without releasing them, he leans closer still.] How about a 'pretty please'?