[at first glance the beverage resembles one of the many beers he's had over the years: amber colored, just enough head but not so much that it's a wasted pour. a careful sniff tells him it's anything but, however, as a sickly sweet scent fills his nostrils. robbie raises an eyebrow and gives her a suspicious once over.]

You trying to kill me? I bet this stuff has more sugar than I need in a week.

[as if caloric intake is going to kill him when cuts and bullets and flames are basically no match.]

Why don't you take a sip first? I'm still on the fence.