Finnick has none either, so unfortunately if the bartend wants them to stop, he's gonna have to say so.

Finnick shivers lightly, both at the sensation of clawed fingertips and the thrill of being touched by a hot stranger, which never gets old for him. He looks at Angel with lidded eyes.

"I think you get flight and wings and stuff. So I guess you'll live up to your name. Angel Dust, the demon with wings." The irony is quite funny, and he grins, though his tone is low and has taken on a slightly sultry tone, which seems to happen automatically in situations like this.