[At the mention of 'that fellow', Abel looks over at the bar and scowls. His tired and tipsy state has left him a little less kind, apparently. He takes the cup of ice, not putting everything together just yet, and puts a cube into his mouth sulkily.]
As if I'd have any kind of... concoction he made. He doesn't even know what he's doing, it's just a waste of decent alcohol.
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As if I'd have any kind of... concoction he made. He doesn't even know what he's doing, it's just a waste of decent alcohol.