[Doc looks pointedly up towards the shelf of unlabeled moonshine bottles, expecting his gaze to be easy enough to follow. Given this is a face he doesn't recognise it is quite possible that this is the latest unfortunate soul to be gracing them with his presence. Their little open bar gathering feels like a long time ago, now.]

We have been making some homebrew. It's... well no one's died or gone blind from drinking it yet but it might be a little too harsh for you. [No offense son but you don't look like you could handle the way it burns or puts hairs on your chest. Doc isn't sure what other conclusion to draw with a youthful face and a city boy look. Nobody drinks it for that warm, enriching aroma of gasoline.] You should be done after a couple glasses. [Whether that looks like rolling on the floor or sobbing over his mother or passed out flopped over the armrest of the couch.]