"Like I said, I need a glass so I'll know how much a pint is, and I'm going to do the measuring in my own home." His indignation fades slightly at the mention of the still. She's making new stock?

"Are you making vino, or something else?" His eyes suddenly widen and he ducks under the bar, reaching for what was formally a jumbled place of odds and ends and is now a tidy area completely devoid of hidden bottles of decent red wine.

"Where is it?" It sounds calm on the surface, but he's ready to hunt and destroy whoever might have taken the last of barely palatable alcohol.