At the sudden slam on the counter, Dahlia didn't startle, didn't flinch--she'd long since had that beaten out of her--but she definitely reacted. She blinked a few times, then broke into laughter a second later--honest laughter, completely unlike her sarcastic chuffing, the sort that made her eyes wrinkle and her face flush. "Fuck you, kid," she said brightly, lacking any real malice. "Do I really look like the motherin' type?" She gestured vaguely at herself--herself, being all tattoos and biceps and skeptical eyebrows--by way of example. "C'mon. I 'spected better of you."
Drunk Dahlia was fun. Well. More fun than not, usually. At least that Dahlia liked to gamble, liked to flirt, liked to laugh--things that made her seem less angry and needy for a while, at least until she went one shot too far. Probably didn't help that she always seemed to make better money after a few discreet nips on the clock, either. Just more proof, to her, that everyone seemed to like that Dahlia better.
She eyed the glass she'd just only set back down, then decided to do everyone a solid. Cheerfully ignoring that little voice in the back of head that thought she should--just maybe--consider slowing down, Dahlia hefted the glass again and tossed back the last of the beer.
Licking her lips thoughtfully, she stared into the bottom of the glass for a moment, like she was divining from the leftover foam. Not that she needed that third eye--experience alone knew what the next morning would look like. Then she continued, notably dropping more syllables as time went on, "Surely you got a li'l more flair 'n that, though. Like, lotta m'own party tricks aren't 'sactly uh, family-friendly. But even I know like, every way t'open a beer bottle under th'sun." Sure--not an uncommon repertoire for a frat boy, or for someone who spent a lot of time behind a bar with shit else to do.
Reaching over, she set the now-empty glass down on the bartender's side of the bar. She made a show of glancing at the nearest patron beside her, then leaned in conspiratorially. "I can even do 'em with m'teeth," Dahlia added, in a lower voice, with a slight wrenching gesture near the corner of her shit-eating grin.