"Call the cops, I don't care!" She will take that neon cocktail, thank you, and slam it rather than sip it, but she's at this point of tipsy where she doesn't feel like sipping anything. She's going to talk someone into buying her shots at some point soon.

Still dancing, her hand exaggeratedly creeps towards his hair, menacing him with the threat of a hair ruffle. She would never actually, that would be a crime, but the threat is there.