*hic!belches quietly and stabs a finger at you, inadvertently misjudging the distance and poking you rather hard in the collarbone* Watch't, mister, or 's the gutter f'r you. *shakes her sore finger with a sourish expression* Now look whatcha made me do. Yer such a bone bag.
*beckons a little sloppily* C'mere, then, keep guessin' the cards. The tickets 'n freaks can wait.