"Thank goodness for small favors," Myitt mutters. She nods at Ronny. "Yeah, buddy, I didn't expect to see you here, either, to be honest. But me? I'm an alcoholic." She smiles and refills her glass. "Yes, I know it's your liver," she intones cryptically.
The bartender whips the glass out of Neimad's hand and refills it. The stuff smells like pine needles, or maybe that's just the brain damage it's causing...