"Anything that's not elf-made would be a welcome change, I should think." He wasn't the most open-minded of eaters, but this seemed like the sort of place you ought to be able to find something. He followed, slipping his arm around hers after shrugging into his coat again. Her drink must have had a bit more of a punch than his; he felt a touch lightheaded, but nothing more. That was good. He was already sufficiently out of his element. "Something that doesn't come in pie form, or with mash. Or come before treacle." One didn't like to mess with tradition, but the diet got ... tiresome.