[ He arches an eyebrow as the glass is taken from him, but turns from judging to amused as soon as the other is put in its place.

He doesn't hang around, tipping it back and swallowing it down, eyes closing for a moment as he enjoys the burn of it on the way down. ]

Spies. Can't live with 'em and can't live without 'em. [ With a glance to the bottle and his empty glass in hand, he smirks. ] Depends. Are you trying to get me drunk here? 'Cause lack of food won't help that much.