Throwing his arm around JT, and steering him towards the VERY private Congress Lounge, Tim guffaws. "Too sloshed, ye say, lad?" he smiles toothily. "Well, tha' would require me ter be face doon on yon floorboards, in a wee puddle o' me own spit."
As the always fine Concierge, Tess, opens the frosted glass doors to the lounge for the two Congressmen, he pats her on the backside and finishes his thought. "Anything shy o' tha, Oi'm all ears, me good man."