[ Not to be outdone, Gansey dutifully drinks some of the fruit concoction.

He can almost feel his level of drunkenness sliding. Jesus actual Christ. He coughs, setting the glass back down. Whatever's in that, it's strong.

Not bad, though. ]

Tastes better than Scotch, admittedly. You ought to give that a name. [ He gestures at it. ] Something bracing. I might have to stick to the beer.