"We can get you some vodka." Hartley let go of Cisco as he walked up to the bar, ordering them both a shot and paying before turning around and holding one of them out to Cisco. He looked around the club and grinned, arching his eyebrows. "Try to see how many guys are checking you out, Cisquito. Inconspicuously. Because I can see at least five. Might be missing some. Those jeans are working for you."

He held up his shot, smirking. "Cheers."