He ordered a drink of his own - plain water, with a wedge of lemon - and shot Ari a look. "Yeah, well when you can learn to throw a decent punch, I'll learn to hit a note," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. Bars weren't really his scene; it wasn't that he had anything against alcohol or those who drank, but his old mentor back home and drilled it into his head that he was supposed to be pure of body and spirit, and that contaminants would only serve to weaken him. Even though he knew it wasn't entirely true - said mentor was the biggest alcoholic Drake had ever met - he'd just never had much of a desire to drink.
He clinked his cup against Cressida's and grinned. "They will sing," he warned her. "The quicker you drink, the less embarrassed you'll be." Or more, but no point in reminding her of that.