Remiel slipped back in, reaching under the table to drag Juicy with him, headress or no.  His shirt, by now, was half-unbuttoned, his white gloves off and stuffed in his coat pocket.  He went for another glass of liquor (mumbling something about "having the hair of the dog that bit me", and listened, intent, to Michi's story.  His eyes flickered back and forth between Michi's face, and Trip's, to see how the girl reacted to it.  When Michi finished, he applauded lightly.