"My beer is not supposed to taste like my breakfast," Mitch said, still looking affronted at the idea. "I'm a whisky or scotch man, myself. Generally scotch."
Simple, basic, easy to get drunk on. He knew that one well, had relied on the fact more than once during that period when Jamie had been missing. (Of course, now he wondered why he'd ever even cared, but that was neither here nor there.)
"I'm just going to blame the weird beer on Wade. It seems like something he'd come up with."