He smiles, and downs another. And another. He stares the werebear in the eyes, never losing his smile, downing glass after glass. "That's six for me. Agreed. I can't wait to see the look on your face when you lose." He drinks a eighth glass, and chuckles. "You're good, bear. But the nights not over yet." He waves for another refill, and runs his hand across his horns. "You'll have to drink a few more gallons to beat me, I'm afraid. This ale isn't a strong as the drinks I'm used to."