He lets her take the glasses and then picks out some more while she's dropping those ones in the sink. She can keep taking them, but that sink isn't going to fit them all in and he'll dirty them all if he has to. He tucks them in the crook of his arm and gives her a challenging stare.

"Do we have to book an appointment to come to your bar, or can we still walk in? Have you got a little list of the drinks we're allowed to take?" He's feeling pretty indignant about this now, as he'd at least had the comfort of knowing that he could come and drink the dregs of a wine bottle at 3am if he wanted to.

"If you're trying to claim the last of the stock as well you're going to have a riot."