Adrian's eyes cross trying to get a better look at his glimmering, birdish beak, then flick up to Armani. "Well, shit," He turns, abruptly, to slap an open palm against the ballooned fabric of Eddy's shirt. It makes a pleasant, wet smacking noise. Good punctuation for his exclamation, but it does nothing to help deflate the shirt-bubble. "Better be someone real special. Who're we scoping out for you?"