"Always," James said, wiping down the bar until it gleamed. He could use magic, but there was something satisfying about doing it the Muggle way. "I think it's an Ogden's sort of night." Conversations about your best mate's not so dead brother always called for Ogden's.
He finished his self-appointed task while Sirius got the whiskey. When they were seated, a bottle between them, and a healthy shot settling in their stomachs, James barreled on ahead with his other self-appointed task of the evening.