The tap causes a cascade of tension. A quick turn, muscles tense, locking almost into a fighting position before he forces himself to relax. It's only a split-second of loss of control.

"It's gonna take a lot more than one drink to get me off my feet."

He's fine. His brains have been diced and scrambled and possibly deep-fried, but he's fine.

He focuses on the newcomer, eyes narrowed. "Who're you?"