Xas barely changes expression - he's neither surprised nor bothered - but inclines his head, puzzling over the mermaid's request with all of the experience and ancient knowledge of a millennia-old being who has never, ever tasted chocolate.

He imagines a hot, thick, brown version of the orange drink. It's not appealing.

"And an Antivenom," he chips in before the bartender can get away, but she isn't going far, anyway: she gets a piece of paper from under the bar and puts it in front of Shrieky.

"Our chocolate and chocolate substitute options," she says. "The bottom three are for clients who need to ingest dirt."