There's every chance that, were he feeling a little less oddly delighted, he'd get angry for being prodded with a pool cue, but as it is, he just gives the guy a considering look, seeming to size him up, then shrugs and reluctantly withdraws his hand from the table, but not after one final rub of the soft surface.

"I guess we should probably go outside."

He's really loath to leave that pleasant texture behind, but he doesn't want to get in a fight, not right now, so with one more forlorn glance at the table -- which none of the guys playing pool seem to appreciate the feeling of -- he heads for the door, realizing he's swaying a little in his steps, but chalking that up to the alcohol.

"I still don't feel a whole lot."