As he listened to Spinnet ramble on about old fashioned notions or some such garble, Adrian noticed the world around him was a little blurrier than usual. Things were beginning to move at a peculiar pace, the kind of pace reserved for...well a few more shots than what he'd had. He squinted at the bottle and frowned. It wasn't the usual 80 proof, it was 90. That damned barkeep had probably done it on purpose.
"What in Salazar's name is a 'pool table'?" Adrian blinked at her. "I don't think it would be appropriate to go swimming at this point. Especially not in a pub. Bloody muggles."
Adrian raised an eyebrow as the girl promptly stood up and walked away with his- their?- bottle of firewhiskey. He turned his bar stool to watch her and leaned backwards on the bar. One elbow missed entirely, but he managed to catch himself, although not so gracefully.
"You look like a fucking idiot," he called after a moment's consideration. "I've seen House elves with more grace."