“Only four at the LEAST?” she questioned bemusedly. “Proportions are irrelevant when it comes to the subject of these DRINKS. One’s effects generally occur over TIME. The other’s effect happens IMMEDIATELY.”
Dlanor would’ve easily let go, but the presentation of an argument always seemed to spur the feeling of a challenge. Perhaps once upon a time, she’d have compared this to the squabble of two children over the magic trick of candy, but this was the health of someone relatively important that was being discussed at hand. “What you deem a herald upon a throne can easily be overthrown by a well-timed thief in the NIGHT.”
“Hey, now… are you referring to–? I don’t think that’s fair at all.” Though, of course, Dlanor had a point. The detective frowned, shoulders hunching in defense as he shuffled from foot to foot, attempting to come up with some sort of cutting retort. “Tea is… my first love. My truest love.”
He turned with a huff, pulling arms to cross over his chest. “Certainly more willing to show affection than some I can think of. Tea will always be there for me… Scotch, and the others, are just… mistresses for the worst of nights…"