Lolita. Right. He knew there had to be a term for... that. "Well that seems... fluffy."

He steps out of harms way of her parasol, blinking up at it for a moment and, deciding it's probably best not to spew out whatever superstitious mumbo-jumbo that pops into his head about bad luck and opening umbrellas indoors and that it probably isn't good to push her luck, but he isn't really superstitions and he'd rather talk about martinis anyway.

"And they're delicious," Tony answers. "But maybe we'll start you out with something a bit sweeter. Chocolate or strawberry something or other."