Silvestre had to snicker at a reaction like that. Obviously, he could've stifled it if he tried, but at this point there really was no stopping the immature little laugh. The atmosphere of the club was, by itself, intoxicating. Maybe it was a psychosomatic effect, the music and nearby gyrating crowd getting him on the road to tipsiness already. Or maybe, he just really, really wanted to be drunk and get through this night.

Either way, Axel's demands had did little to bring his smug mood down.

"No way! This is going on my Insta," he sat and looked appreciatively down at his phone again, "You actually look like less of a douche when you're not trying so hard... Hey, what's your screenname? I'll tag you!"

Button, button, who's got the button?

Silvestre had already found one button to push when he realized Axel didn't like his picture taken. Was it just because it was Silvestre shooting, or did he hate candid pictures? It made sense that the glory hound would want pics of himself to be the epitome of practiced perfection. Silvestre didn't have time to find out for sure just yet.

"Evening, Darlin'," he forgot about his phone for a moment, setting it down and flashing his best smile at the woman on the other side of the bar, "Whoa, anyone ever tell you you look like Josephine Baker? I think it's in your smile. And you've got big, sweet eyes like her too..."

Silvestre did this often enough to get a reputation as a flirt. He brought his fair share of fans backstage to chat and hang with the band too - he just never happened to sleep with them. It wasn't really an act. Compliments came almost as easily to Silvestre as complaints. And both were usually followed up by some silly attempt at humor.

"Anyway, I'm gonna need two buttery nipples," he handed her the card, smiling at how she suppressed an eye-roll. Oh yeah, she'd probably heard that a million times from cocky half-drunk (or drunk by proxy) guys in here. It worked better for him this way: he could count on bartenders to smile and play along, but not want anything more. Easier than leading a girl on and then having to practically kick her out of his bunk.

"Oh, and put this guy's drinks on my tab too," he shrugged his shoulder towards Axel. He wasn't sure how much Axel already had, but it didn't matter much. Silvestre preferred to go for shots himself. Again, when he was in this sort of mood, it was best to go for fast and hard rather than drag things out.