Oliver did his best to hold back a smirk as the girl's companion snapped at him for referring to Lynette as a mere celebrity, although he did muster a sheepish smile, as if to apologize for not properly recognizing this "legend amongst performers." Though, now that he was thinking about it, if this Lorelei was such a prodigy, then why was she stuck doing her own advertising? Surely if she was as good as this punk claimed she was, she would be in some dressing room drinking tea while hired hands distributed fliers in the park. He decided he'd rather keep this observation to himself, as he already felt Lorelei was beginning to catch on to his white lies. He wasn't expecting her to offer an autograph right away though, so he quickly retrieved the flier from his bag, figuring that was as good of a thing to sign as any.

"Hey, you're on this poster too, aren't you?" he asked (of Marcus), as he handed the flier over to Lorelei. "That's pretty neat. I like the drawing a little more, though... it's much quieter," he said, in a rather nice, almost saccharine tone. Oliver wasn't one to shy away from a battle of quips, and this fluffy little ponce didn't look like he'd be the type to start a fight -- especially with his babysitter standing right there. It was odd to him, too, that this Lorelei girl kept heavily suggesting he should come to the late, adult only shows (which he most likely guessed were geared towards a male audience, what with Lorelei being featured so "prominently"). He hoped he didn't look like one of those creepy older pervs who went for that exotic dance kind of stuff, always drooling over scantily clad young girls like the one currently standing in front of him. Another lie at this point couldn't hurt, right? After this autograph thing she'd probably forget he ever existed.

"Well, I'm not in town a lot so I'm trying to spend what time I have with my family, y'know? If I do come, I'll probably be taking my younger sister along, so it'll most likely be one of the earlier shows," he explained. "But I do appreciate the offer. I'll let my friend know; he kinda likes that... sort of thing."

He wasn't sure what he meant by "that sort of thing," but hopefully this girl would take it in the least offensive way possible. This conversation was quickly becoming a bit of a trainwreck, something that wasn't really helped by Oliver neglecting to think of a fake name for the autograph during all this time. He tried to play it off nonchalantly.

"Well, my name's Oliver C. Pike IV, but you can go ahead and make it out to..."

Oliver let his eyes dart away for a split second, fishing for some inspiration in the busy park. His eyes landed on a large signpost staked in the ground in the distance, and Oliver finally found a worthy name to use.

"Grout Mutah. Make it out to Grout Mutah, please," he answered, relieved. "Maybe add something nice, like 'with love', or 'to my biggest fan.' That'd be really special, he'd like that a lot," he finished, heaving an internal sigh. Hopefully she'd just sign the autograph and be on her way, and this whole mess would be behind him.