Borthric seems unaffected by the ale as he reaches his eleventh shot. 
"Agreed. It seems you're only just starting to get tipsy, Brakes," a flat but cheerful grin spreads across his bulging red cheeks that match his round drinker's nose. The grin soon becomes a smirk. "Hey bartender! You wouldn't happen to have any [i]Sailor's Spirit[/i] in stock, would you? We're gonna need an upgrade if we're gonna finish this tonight." Leaning back to face Brakes, giant fist laying on the bar, Borthric resumes his playful inquiries. "You heard of Sailor's Spirit, Demoneye? I'd presume not, since you're not from around here. I've tried every brew from coast to coast. I know what fills up the cup."