Ixidor is curiously pleased at the nonverbal exchange between the magician and the zombie, it seemed they intended to drink him under the table and take advantage of him, so to speak.
Well, if that's the case, he just hopes that he remembers it tomorrow morning.
When Zatanna drops her idea, Ix is visibly impressed. She might turn out to be truly helpful after all. "Well alright! Hell yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about. I'd love it if you could get in touch with your friends and let me know something. Here--" the wiry, tattooed willworker looks over to the bartender and snaps his fingers a few times until they come up with a napkin and a pen. Well, a Sharpie. He thanks them, though, so at least he doesn't look like a complete douche bag.
Writing his cell number on the napkin, along with the name Adrian, Ixidor gives it a fold and passes it to Martha. It wasn't that big of a deal; if she turned out to be some creepy stalker, she'd get blocked so damn fast...
"So, what do I get to call you all, when you're not dressed as a Boss Zombie and a sexy magician?" Pet names would only take them so far.