Grog briefly recalled receiving a gift and a status report from Barkeep as he awoke in the kitchen floor. By the looks of it, he was somehow carried inside before the rest, and had passed out for no more than a minute, seeing as the remainder of the team had just entered and began settling. Crawling his way to the sink, bottle in hand, Grog's disorderly thoughts blotted out the distant chattering of his partners in crime, as he contemplated why on earth he'd be given a bottle of wine when he had the Pint. Maybe Barkeep wasn't aware of its' power or something. Whatever, Grog thought. May as well try it out. "Power Pint: West's Stride!", he commanded.

 Nothing. That was odd. "Power Pint! Give me West's Stride!" he ordered once again, in a louder voice. "God dammit, pint. The hell's wrong with you?! You broke? Give me some booze dammit." he yelled, as the pint filled itself with beer, some of it spilling on the floor. Grog's eyes widened visibly, even behind his goggles. "What the shit?", he screamed, and, recalling what the driver had said about getting the interior dirty, let out an audible sigh before turning back to the elephant in the room. "What the hell are you, Stride?" he said in a comically suspicious tone, as he brought the bottle closer to his squinted eyes. Instantly returning to his usual self, he happily exclaimed  "Ah, who gives a shit. One way to find out." and downed the bottle in a matter of seconds. He had started to become dangerously sober after all, with the Fucksville's effect having ended and whatnot.