Scaramouche sets down his glass.

"It's like this, babe. I go to the bar--" he walks his long, slim fingers along the counter, keeping a steady smile in place as they hone in on his cocktail; when they touch the stem, his glowing gaze slides over to Jujubug, "and I ask for a drink."

Already smiling in smug anticipation of more laughter, he takes hold of the glass again.