Ravi winced, actually winced, as though he'd been punched in the gut or actually poisoned, when Richie brought out the accent. "Oh, no," he told him with a laugh. "You sound like an extra from Mary Poppins. No one said pip pip anymore since Dickens. Give it a good 'bloody hell' at least."
He lifted up onto his seat to reach over the bar. "And lager over tea would be disgusting. Bourbon in tea, not so bad."
He could just barely reach the top shelf, being a fairly tall and gangly fellow himself at 6'4" when he fully extended. He settled back and passed the glass over.
"Weird is my bread and butter, man. Besides, I had to meet my new best friend. And there's alcohol."