The cough rouses him from the brooding cloud he's been fueling for the past hour. he glances over at the young girl beside him, chuffing at her attempt.

"Sweetheart, don't start with that..." He leans closer to smell it and the whiff even makes him clear his throat. "Especially somethin' that cheap. Start sweet and work your way up. It's an acquired taste, sure, but you get used to it." He remembers the first time his cousins put a bottle of inexpensive whisky in front of him as a joke. The taste and the coughing's still a vivid memory burned in his mind, especially the laughter. After that he stuck with spiked cider until he could legally drive.