Flint shoved his hands into his pockets at her signal, the grin still on his face but faltering a little. Push through a crowd. Head to the bar. Didn't think about that. Not before you said yes, did you? Fuck it. Fifteen minute break. Can deal with people. C'mon. Like the lady said: don't get lost. Luckily, people seemed to part for Lily to get through and Flint limped in her wake, reaching the bar.
Her announcement "Oi, let's have a drink for the piano man!" had him starting to blush, especially as it caused a few people to glance their way. He focused his attention on the bar itself as he thought about how to answer the question. One drink wouldn't hurt, wouldn't affect his playing. If he sipped at it slowly, appreciated it, it wouldn't even make much of a dent. He'd be careful. Usually a scotch drinker, he replied to the question: "Aged Macallan if it's here. Though any whiskey's fine. Scotch, bourbon. With a little water. Ice." There. Something you can savor. Instead of bolting down. Which is the current impulse. Crowd. Lots of people. Be glad someone nice stopped by the piano. Otherwise you wouldn't have left it.
Though he couldn't deny an impulse for him to get back to the instrument, away from the crowded bar. Flint looked up to offer Lily a sheepish smile, knowing that his anxiety was starting to show through a little... and his eyes wandered briefly over to the nice, uncrowded nook where his (not yours, not really, only for the evening) piano was waiting.