Klaus grins and shoots back, "I told you who you could snuggle up to, Friedchen." He stands and crosses over to the bulky container stashed at the foot of his bed. Rooting around inside for a moment, he carefully extracts a tall, thin bottle of amber liquid, the label of which has faded with time. "Glenalister, aught-zieben. Only ze best. A pity ve have no proper glassvare."