"Milk!" roared the large man in the orange hat.
"Milk?" the bartender asked, confused.
"You ain't got it?"
"Why the hell would I serve milk in a bar?"
"I had a particular urgin' for Mudder's Milk."
"What the hell is that?"
"Dude," scoffed Eddie Drake, the long-haired blonde man sitting at the bar. "What's with the hat? There's, like, a pom-pom on it and shit."
Jayne turned and pulled the goggles from his face. "What's with the soupcatcher?"
"He means your ungodly Village People-era mustache, my friend," answered Dr. Christian Troy, impeccably dressed and sipping a 7 & 7.
"If he just insulted ya, that's what I was goin' for," Jayne grinned.
"And what hole did you crawl out of?" Christian asked of Jayne.
"I think he just insulted you back," Eddie noted amicably.
"Christ, when did Miami turn into such a dive?" Christian sniffed. "There's got to be better titty bars around here." With that he got up and left.
Jayne and Eddie watched him leave, and then turned to each other.
"Let's go kick his ass," Eddie suggested.
"Can we kill 'im? I ain't shot anyone today."
"Uh, no, that wouldn't be a good idea."
"Can we strip 'im nekkid and leave 'im somewhere?"
"Now that I wouldn't mind seeing."