Off on the side of the bar, a flushing toilet was heard and the door opened shortly afterward. Wiping his hands on a paper towel, the old salt's eyebrow raised slightly. "Softy? That's not what she said last night," he grumbled. Walking behind the bar, he tossed the paper into the trash and scratched his salt and pepper stubble. "What'll it be for the Tomboy-Tig?" he asked sheepishly and then smiled. "Coke?"