You know, the voice seems, like, vaguely familiar? But between the music, the alcohol, and the Cocked Pistol horniness rating, it's not really registering as a problem right now.

"Hell yeah!" The bartender plops the new drink by Zeke's arm and he slaps an unknown bill denomination on the table in thanks. Please don't hurt him if it's a one he's just a blind lil bone guy. "You a fan or a hater?" He slurps at the drink. "Gotta know before I can hit on ya."