John looks surprised, then briefly distressed, but in the torn way of someone tempted towards stupidity. It's not like he can make more a fool of himself, right?

"You want to see if I can do worse," he accuses. But drums his fingers on the table, thoughtful. "Deal. But you go first. Either show me how it's done or give me a little confidence, right? Let me nurse my wounds for a minute."

He doesn't seem to have any wounds, but he raises his beer pointedly all the same. What's he going to do, throw himself off a robot cow sober?