By then, Tony was practically leaning over the table to watch the waitress do her job and bring other, good boys their food that they could consume and be full and not hungry anymore, and be pleased with how easy that whole process was with her cute smile that had quickly worn thin with this pair. "One of those, maybe, what do you think?" he asked, not making it clear whether he meant the waitress or the fanciful cocktail she was handing across to a gal who didn't even look at her, no appreciation whatsoever. Dragging his gaze back to Bruce, he snatched the menu out of his indecisive friend's hands to point blindly and demand, "There, that's what you're getting. Stop thinking about it, it's on me, what is there to even think about?"