An acquired taste, you mean? [She sniffs it, as if trying to see if she can discern what's so great to be acquired about it.] ... yes, I think I'll take some of that juice.

[Setting the glass down, she notes:] It reminds me a bit of our nunvill. Old men love drinking the stuff, so much that it's nicknamed the nectar of the gods... and supposedly, it does wonders for the hair as well. But it always tasted to me as if something died in it during the brewing process..