That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the night out now. It would certainly be more pleasant than trying to pour booze down his throat in the hopes of shutting the demon within up. "Heeeeeeey!" He tried to turn on the stool and nearly fell himself. It took him one more try, but he did manage to get turned around enough to prop an elbow up on the bar and lean on it. When Trish nearly fell, Daimon also broke out into laughter, though he also reached out a shaky hand - at this point unnecessarily - to place on her shoulder to try and steady her. "Haaahahahaha you can' even siddown, thassa suckersh bet!"
He turned again, spinning melodramatically on the stool like only a truly drunk person could, and pounded an open palm on the bar. "Bartenner, we gots us a bets goin' on! Gonna need you to adj-" Daimon's face screwed up in confusion as he stumbled upon a word that he knew he knew, but couldn't for the life of him recall. "Adj...adj...adj..." With another melodramatic sigh, he grumbled, "You gotta tell ush who wins." Then, as the bartender rolled his eyes and started to prepare Trish's drink, Daimon stumble-turned his way back to Trish. "But we gots'ta haff a prizes! Waddaya want if you win?"