"Is that like, a sexual thing?"
The Waitress wasn't that stupid. She had long since figured out that her date could neither hear nor speak, but still. She was sure the bizarre, single-browed woman sitting across from her had read that statement at least a thousand times on the lips of confused and horrified people every time she darted that... oddly tempting tongue out of her mustachioed mouth.
Margaret McPoyle blinked, expressionless, and repeated the lecherous action as if to say "You pay for my meal, sweet teats, and we'll find out."