You widen your eyes as if you were scared but say and do nothing else.
You just look at her.
For a moment she buys into the idea that you are truly as frightened as she is. Ok, for quite a few moments. Eventually she clues in that you are mocking her and storms off.
Bo, who as it turns out had overheard the whole thing and was doing the same thing to her behind you, elbows up to the server station beside you.
"And somehow, they remember to keep breathing," he snarks. "Right? At least she remembered the milk." You grab the backup milk Sheila had deposited on the bar for you for the inevitable winter barrage of fru-fru White Russians that will be following in the 9:00 post dinner crowd. Looking foolishly for a good spot to put them, you eventually give up and shove them in a back corner of the beer cooler, precariously stacking them on top of some Aventinus bottles.
Suddenly, Porker strides up to the bar. "Are we kicking it?" he asks, the EXACT same lame thing he has said to you as a greeting everytime he sees or talks to you for the last five years.