"You could actually call me by my name," he points out, a touch acerbic, before whistling to get the construct's attention.

(The whistle sounds more -- resonant -- than one that could be produced by an ordinary human.)

The tiny skeleton jogs back down the bar. Wuxian scoops it into his palm, collapsing it into a chip of bone once more. "Let's go, unless you want to kick off a bar brawl."