Clint & Duma
Duma had not been really planning on going out for New Year's Eve but plans were rarely working out for him. He just couldn't stand being alone in his home for another night. He hadn't expected Club Luna to be so crowded -- or warm. All the bodies packed together made things very warm. Moving through the crowd, he ended up half shoved against the bar, bracing his hands on the edge as he looked back at the woman who had been rather ignorant of his complete existence. She was laughing loudly but honestly, the whole place was just... Noise. A lot of noise.
He closed his eyes and exhaled softly, trying not to look overwhelmed and failing. Duma set his phone on the bar and peered at the people around him for ideas as to what was appropriate. He tried to use his phone to talk to the bartender but the mechanical voice couldn't be heard over the music and the din of conversation. So then he pointed furiously at the drink the guy next to him had as he held up the phone which had the text 'what he's having' on it.
The bartender just ever so slightly rolled their eyes but went about making the drink to Duma's relief. He rubbed his face with his hands for a moment before tapping the human on the shoulder and holding up his phone, the text reading now What is that drink, anyway?