He is. He's so doomed, and he hasn't even got the beginnings of a clue. Normally my fic-arcs involve someone (usually Zack) slowly socializing Seph into analyzing less and acquiring more of a social clue, but in this case I'm taking the poor bastard from the initial confident state of 'I can use this' down into helplessly twitching bedsheet-clutching terror before Zack comes to his rescue and starts to translate from pastel-ribbons-and-fluffy-bunnies into a language he's approximately equipped to speak. XD
...I can totally, TOTALLY see the bar scene too. I wonder if I can wrap that around one of the prompts for this month. XDDD