( Boy, he sure does know how to pick 'em, doesn't he? He's gonna have to get her and Cas in the same room together sometime so they can have a frank conversation about weak human constitutions, or whatever. He looks, if anything, more amused than offended.

— and he definitely refuses to think about the fact that he's not so sure he's entirely human anymore these days, even before the eight hundred years of crazy godly bullshit. Better to just let that thought slip away back into the spooky void it came from. )

Nope.

( He responds pleasantly, pouring himself a nice, normal shot of tequila. Personally, he can manage all of about a glass and a half of the stuff Geralt drinks before he's black-out smashed off his friggin' ass, and that's with his own superior S-tier alcohol tolerance. Liquor's practically vitamins to him and that crap still rocks his world. His most sincere condolences about her booze immunity, he'd have jumped off a bridge years ago without his functional alcoholism crutch. )

I serve that to people who have stupidly high fun-sucking constitutions. ( Big Shrug. ) Figured it was worth a shot. If that ain't cutting it, I can make you a girly-fru-fru appletini instead. I'm sure I got tiny umbrellas around here somewhere.

( At least it'd taste better, if it's all the same amount of useless. )