She was being tolerable. Sam leaned back, looking mildly confused. What? No bitching? Glaring? Threatening to kick his ass to high hell and back? Almost on instinct, he raised a hand to rub at the side of his face where she had slugged him a while back. Glancing over his shoulder, practically waiting for someone to lunge in and yell "April Fools!", Sam released a disbelieving breath and shrugged. Maybe what he had said to her before had made some sort of impact. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to push it. She was playing nice. He could live with that, most definitely.
Looking to them both, he gestured toward his beer and released a short breath of laughter. "I think I'll stick with the beer, guys. We don't want me dancing on tables." He would try to avoid the drinks anyway. Sometimes temptation was a very, very horrible thing. "Like I said," he said, tipping his drink upward in a salute, "I'm supervising." And he'd make sure the bill got paid too. For all of them, if no one was sober enough to remember to dish out.