"Are you forgetting things, demoneye? I already told you that I was a Werebear!" Borthric's tone remains calm as he leans back, letting himself fall into a seat at the bar. He simply ignores Brakes, clearly having no interest in answering so many questions all at once. "And you do realize that you can't shove ale down yer gullet while yer lips are flappin', don't ya?-" Borthric seems to cut himself on, as if just now realizing something. "Hang on, is it weird that I like you less when you're happier?" Toward the end of his sentence, he trails off into a chuckle, which soon expands into a full grown boisterous roar. He throws back his head, scrunching his eyes shut with his bulbous cheeks, lodging his beefy hands on his belly, and bearing a massive grin through his beard in a mountainous laugh. Though the laugh is heavy, it seems to have no malicious intent. It is unclear whether the bear is laughing, or the beer.
Borthric recovers from his moment of hysteria, coming back to his previous position. "Bartender, don't bother with another round. I want this round to be special..." Borthric smirks as he reaches the end of the sentence. He pulls out a pair of four-gallon tankards. "Whoever's too drunk to finish chugging from their tankard loses."