Keeping someone bagged for fifteen minutes is bad. When you've been sitting on the guy's chest for an hour, that doesn't come close. I could lose my fingers. I like my fingers.

[This is demonstrated with jazz hands before he leans forward to reclaim his cup. Maybe the tea wasn't such a bad idea - the warmth works it's way though aching joints and he leans back against the head rest, looking over at her. Most of the fuss is for her benefit.]

You thought your night sucked.