With a sigh, the great serpent slid to the bar, wrapping herself around a pair of bar stools and spiraling up, raising her neck, dignified, at a reasonable level to the counter. The tip of her tail flicked across the surface, delicately adjusting a salt shaker. "Barkeep," she called, with a demure jerk of her jaw, "A vodka, pleasse, if you wouldn't mind, hm?"