"Anything you like, Princess-" he told her, with a cheeky waggle of eyebrows, completely unaware of anyone noticing them. And he really wouldn't have given a shit anyway.
"What's it gonna be?" he asked of her, as Cuban bartenders served up cocktails to the other customers, all bright and fruity and perfectly mixed.
"It's not like I'm actually... 116, you know!" he laughed. "And you know, prefacing something with god awful doesn't make it sound like top of my learning priorities," he joked, giving her another look of confusion about guyliner.