Sloppily.

Brad cried out in drunken frustration as he slammed both buttons and the small metal ball plunged perfectly between the flippers. The machine made a sad electronic noise and the display informed him that the game was over.

"Fuck!" he yelled, stepping aside. "Fuckin' thing's rigged!"

"Ehh, you always say that," D slurred. Mel and Gabby giggled. "Nobody likes a sore loser with a big dick."

Brad flipped her off and sat down at the table with them. Mel leaned over to drunkenly whisper something to him and Gabby slapped her arm.

"Everybody can hear you," she told her friend. "And I wanna know too. How big?"

"I got a tape measure in my purse," Mel said with a laugh. "You can just... you know, whip it out."

"I'm not gonna take my dick out at the fuckin' bar!" Brad said, knocking over his drink with a sweeping gesture. He swore and grabbed a handful of napkins. As he clumsily soaked up whiskey, he heard the distinct sound of a restaurant manager clearing her throat behind him.

Outside the bar the group shivered and complained about the manager, who they all agreed was a complete bitch. Brad was blearily ranting about her shitty bangs, but he kept getting distracted by something poking into his ribs.

"What?" he snapped, wheeling around fast enough to lose his balance and stumble forward into D. His weighed sagged against her soft body and he marveled that she could effortlessly support his weight.

"Get their number," she whispered into his ear.

"What?"

"Oh my God, dude, ask for their number!" she hissed.

"Oh," he said, and belched loudly. He turned back to Meg and Gabby, who were leaning against the building and looking at their phones.

"Have you ever been kicked out of a bar before?" he asked sheepishly. "This is my first time."

Mel looked up from her phone and smiled woozily. "You get used to it."

"I can't remember the last time I just cut loose like that," he said. "We should do it again soon. Wanna, uh, trade contact info? For- whoa!"

Brad jumped at a playful but aggressive slap on the ass from his golem, who grinned at the group. "Aww, are you guys giving Brad your numbers? That is so sweet!"

"He suggested we all trade info," Gabby said. "I'd love to give you my number too in case you wanna hang out or something."

"Hmm?" D said distractedly. "Oh, yeah. Shit, hang on." She pulled out the phone that had been delivered along with her in a crate earlier. She began to type in Gabby's number. When they'd all finished, there was an awkward pause before Brad spoke.

"Well, I guess we should get home-"

"Fuck that!" Gabby interrupted, looking up from her phone. "We're going dancing!"

Brad looked doubtful. "I don't know, it's getting kinda-"

"Uber's here!"