He yawns his way down the stairs, ambles over to Bar, sits, and says, "I have a yearning for maple mead today."
"Well, don't feel that you need to justify yourself to me. 'It's my fault and I would like to fix it' was enough."
Oh look. The orange juice of woe is all gone.
"Is it too soon to ask again about the maple mead?" he inquires of Bar.
He can have a milkshake with a maraschino cherry and whipped cream and a crazy straw.
"In a manner of speaking."
He tries the milkshake. It's obnoxiously delicious. He sighs.
"I have been here for a week now ordering nothing but alcohol and she keeps insisting on feeding me."
"Well, that's... nice, I suppose. Would I be doing something very irresponsible if I offered you the mead she's withholding."
He sighs.
"If I wanted a drink that badly I could just step outside."
"But thank you for the offer."
This is a really unfairly good milkshake.
You can't tell because she doesn't have a face but Bar is very smug about that.
"You're welcome."
He accepts a drink recommendation, sips it, looks pleasantly surprised.
"How come you've been here for a week, are you waiting for extradimensional magic solutions too?"