This is my kid, Martin.

[ She gestures towards the rumpled, nervous creature that has appeared. Then, gesturing over at their guest: ]

Martin, Richie. Richie, Martin. [ A little lackluster, as far as introductions go, but hell. She's the mom here — it's not her job to be cool, right? ] Have fun. Try not to set anything on fire. If you're going to drink, go easy and don't fuck with the sketchy shit I keep under the bathroom sink. Absolutely no throwing up on the carpet. Alright?