Kili longed to prove himself useful on the journey, and so at the mention of helping, he practically jumped at the chance. Dwalin was a dwarf he respected and often admired from afar; he was strong, scarred from previous battles, and very well respected. Everything that a dwarf should be, in the youngest's opinion.

"Mister Dwalin!" Kili smiled up to him, and the burlier of the two clasped a hand to his shoulder. With the other, he clasped Fili's. "Good to see you lads," he told both brothers, and from there he showed them an impressive collection of various brew. The drinks were stored in heavy kegs, ones that Kili was certain he and Fili could move. 

In the distance, the prince could overhear Bibo's flustered speech and footsteps as he went from one place to the next. The poor hobbit seemed positively beside himself, for reasons Kili could not understand. "Excuse me, you haven't yet answered my questions!" For what felt the tenth time, Bilbo made an attempt to speak with Balin. The white haired dwarf was busy admiring his pantry of various vegetables and cheeses. 

"And what questions might those be?" There was no sarcasm in his tone, Balin truly did wish to know, but right then there was another series of knocks at the doors. Bilbo's eyes narrowed dangerously, and if he hadn't control of himself, he may have said something rather unkind.

Again the hobbit went from the kitchen (he shot Fili and Kili a glower upon his passing) and into the front entry. "What is it now?!" Bilbo pulled open the door, and from there several dwarves fell into a heap at his bare feet.