Amos. [ He'll shake her hand back. At the question about the caliber of drinks, he pours himself another from the bottle they set in front of him. At this rate, that debt's only getting higher by the hour.

He swirls his glass around, smirks a little. ]

You been anywhere near the scrapyard? That sharp smell of gas around — it tastes like that smells. Gets the job done, though.

[ He shoves an empty glass towards her, pours her a drink. ]