He let out an amused snort. "Yeah, yeah. Water's good, but whiskey?" He gestured down to his own glass, fanning his fingers out. "It makes you stronger, taller and better looking. Proven to help a bad man sleep better, and a poor man feel richer, eh?"

There was a soft clink as his rings met the glass, and having paused just long enough to take a sip, he continued: "You wake up with your head splitting? Curarse la cruda." A brief pause, and then he leaned right in, cheek inches from Visscher's shoulder. With his voice at a low, conspiratorial whisper, he added, "It draws a little less attention, too."