"To the bar," Jeremy suggests, because that's good enough for him. "--are those my only options?"

Not that he's actually objecting to those choices, even if he does have a particular perverse fondness for all the Tourist Drinks-- the yard-long daiquiris and the neon-orange margaritas and the neon-blue Blue Hawaiians over at the Tropicana--

--but he has nothing against beer, nope.

"Beer's fine," he says affably without really waiting for an answer, and crosses his arms on the bartop, peering at her from under the shaggy fringe of his hair. "I think the sign outside said Dodgy Jammer."