Eddi finally noticed the amber colour of the stuff in the glass, and smelled the brandy fumes. "That's for medicinal purposes."
"I'm not surprised. I have been consuming it steadily for the last hour, and I can assure you, it was not made for the sake of pleasurable drinking." He spoke more slowly than usual, but just as clearly.
"Then why," Eddi asked carefully, "have you been drinking it?"
"Perhaps because I need physicking, my heart. Or perhaps not. Tell me, what do you keep it on hand to cure?"
"Head colds."
"Ah, that's the problem, then. I haven't got one."
She sighed. "Who writes your dialogue, Lewis Carroll?"
He frowned over that for a moment, shook his head, and drained the glass.
"Are you trying to get drunk?" she asked him.
"No. I am succeeding, at least in some measure, in getting drunk."
"I didn't know you could."
"Silly child. That's your problem -- you know nothing of history. You are" -- he thought about it, and let the word roll graciously off his tongue -- "ignorant."
He was trying to annoy her. It made her smile. "Does it help?"
"Does what help?"
"Being drunk."
"Not a bit." He poured the glass half-full, sniffed it, made a face, and tossed it off.
