Tuco turned to meet Visscher's eyes and waited, staring as if he expected the man to betray his mock-seriousness with a wry, playful look—that he had his real request lined up, hovering in the wings.

...When it became apparent that this wasn't the case, he laughed. Loudly.

"Water?" he repeated, shaking his head grimly. "Jesus." He scrubbed at his jaw for a second or two (ample time for that judgmental air to settle in) before flopping his hand across the bar, waggling his outstretched fingers. Having managed to get the bartender's attention, he first motioned to his own glass, ("Another!") and then to Visscher himself. "And a glass of your finest water!"