[BLECH . . . he's still looking around for something to drink, but everything is alcoholic (shocking behind a bar). And by now the taste has faded, sort of, or at least become mildly less distressing— so with a huff, Fenris returns to his stool, frowning all the while.]

Can't you give it to someone else?

[He glances up reflexively as Zevlor's voice raises in exasperation; then, with a little grimace:]

No . . .

[There's no trusting anyone else with a secret like this. Hmm . . . ]

We could fill it back up with some water and put the cork back in. That might work.