Francisco strode into the bar, a maniacal grin on his face.
"Well well Gentlemen, it's wonderful to see you all enjoying yourselves...and you, Zavala, as well I suppose" he laughed, nodding towards the table where Juan was sitting.
He sauntered up to the bar, promptly ordering two bottles of the bar's finest whiskey - popping off the tops before winking towards the table where Juan and Lohingren were sitting, or rather, swaying at this point in the evening.
"To your health, Gentlemen" he announced to the crowd, lifting both bottles in the air almost triumphantly, then immediatly guzzling the spirits down in one foolish swoop.
"I don't think that's a great idea Palenc...." Juan started, but already too late.
Both bottles were empty, clattering noisly along the floor as they rolled away from thier owner, now on his back, out cold.
Some of the bar's occupants shook thier heads as he was helped out of the bar by two unlucky junior officers, most could hardly contain themselves as Francisco was carried away to rapturous laughter, whistles and applause.