That isn't even worth the effort of a scathing look, so it doesn't get one.

Jim pats the Bar.

"Help us out, darling? . . . I'll behave, I promise," he adds after a moment, when nothing is forthcoming. "Lock me out if I'm not a perfect gentleman with this one."

There is a distinct impression that, if Bar had eyes, she would be rolling them, but a room key appears. Jim snatches it up before she can change her mind.

"Thank you, my dear," he coos.