Tamarin unceremoniously sweeps up the coins, disappearing them into a pocket on her apron. She eyes the young women for a moment, the same measuring stare one sees on a dog that is deciding whether or not to bite. Some decision is reached in her mind and wordlessly a glass is plunked onto the bar top. 1 part vodka to two parts cranberry juice and Tamarin gestures at it. After a moment, she reaches into her apron and places one of the woman's coins back onto the bar. "It's gutrot, to be honest"