Allowing his accent to briefly return to its natural Scottish inflections, Liam agreed, "Excellent choice." He turned to the row of bottles behind him to quickly scan the labels and see where the Scotch was. He remembered noticing it yesterday... Pulling his ID from the pocket of his shirt, Liam swiped it along the reader at the side and watched as the glass partitioning the drinks slid up into the ceiling to provide him access. Still pretty nifty, even if he was sure the novelty would wear off soon.

Deft hands retrieved the bottle from its place on the shelf and a snifter from somewhere underneath the bar. He carefully measured out the serving (perhaps giving just a bit extra) and set it in front of Sal.

"Here you are, one neat Scotch."