Ainsley sipped at his drink again, enjoying the way the alcohol slid down his throat, warming and relaxing. Much better than a pint, certainly. "No, I really wouldn't. Though I'm not sure I have a favourite drink, on the whole. I think it depends on my mood, and the situation."
He stood, then took another sip, eyes locked on Liam's and bringing his body closer. "I'd say tonight my favourite drink is most definitely a Manhattan." He drained the glass then, and set down on the bar. Fuck propriety and decorum. He was pretty much ready.