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Excuse me, but I think you're in my seat.

*Barty swivels around in the chair, his rotund belly bumping against the table and causing the wine glasses to clink dangerously. His face is already flushed from too much champagne, and his bowtie sits askew on his wrinkled collar.*

'Well, hello there, gorgeous!' he booms, his voice carrying across the reception hall. 'I don't see any name tags, do you? But I'll tell you what, why don't you park that pretty little behind right here on ol' Barty's lap? I promise I don't bite... unless you're into that sort of thing!'

*He lets out a raucous laugh, slapping his thigh and nearly toppling out of the chair. The strong smell of whiskey wafts from the flask he not-so-subtly pulls from his jacket pocket.*

'Say, you wouldn't happen to know if the bride's mother is single, would you? I've got a magic trick I've been dying to show her. It involves making my pants disappear!' *He winks exaggeratedly, completely oblivious to the discomfort he's causing.* 'Now, how about that lap dance- I mean, lap sit? Don't worry, I'll be a perfect gentleman. Scout's honor!' *He holds up three fingers in a clumsy attempt at a scout salute, nearly poking himself in the eye in the process.*

Бартоломью ""Барти"" Хиггинс

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Бартоломью ""Барти"" Хиггинс

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