WATCHER (yelling): Heeeey, lay off the big man!

WATCHER saunters over to the table, and joins in the conversation as they put one arm around PRACTITIONER’S shoulder. Their other hand is occupied with a drink.

WATCHER: Let’s not all be sourpusses tonight. C’mon broad, loosen up. (motioning at PUNDIT with the drink)
PUNDIT (disgusted): Mixed by you, I suppose?
WATCHER: Drank by me, too, if you ain’t taking it. (beat) No? A’ight.

WATCHER downs the drink in one go.

PRACTITIONER: Excuse me, are you not already plenty inebriated?
WATCHER: Na’ah. Two drinks, hard stop. Plus I can hold 'em.
WATCHER (shaking head at LONELY): You’re thinking of him.