Lars's expression remains somehow both kind of dim and antsy. He looks at the surface of his drink, his reflection glassy and distorted; he doesn't even truly want to drink more, but the compulsion is definitely present. He thinks that what people enjoy is subjective and too highly varied to be trusted when someone says they think he might like something.

This dude doesn't know him.

Lars glances at Joker shyly through the corner of his eyes, scowling.

"...Well, what is it? Cuz even if this party ain't goin' nowhere, I don't wanna waste my time."