"What gave you the idea that I'd be fussy?" he retorts, frowning. Whoever heard of a fussy mercenary? Only the terrible ones. And he fancies himself to be half-decent at suffering through blood and grime and worse.

Nevermind that there were times where he gave the Apothecary quite the hard time. He had a rather short fuse when it came to being handled, too.

The offense is forgotten easily as Lashan shuffles over to the front and pours herself a drink. He cranes his head to the side a bit, as if looking at the milk from another angle would reveal some untold secret about it. He'd already had taken a liking to the regular milk they had available, and he's had stronger things than beer. Mixing them both could turn out to be interesting.

"Sure." he agrees, not dissuaded. "How do you usually drink it?"