Metzger makes a sound thats all consonants (“nnnnfhh”), denial of disassociation gruff in his throat on his way to swilling down a stiffer shot. No, of course. Look at him, he must’ve been unplugged for 70 years. “Just a party pooper,” he says, apologetic on his own behalf.

“Recently divorced.”

He shows her his cup.

“I take it Antioch is too enlightened for dancing.”

It's abruptly very difficult to tell whether or not he's serious.