"You like fruity drinks, then? It's no wonder you don't like whiskey, it's one of the least fruity drinks out there." He offered her a smile, then motioned toward the bartender. "This woman would like something called a zombie, please," he informed the man behind the bar. It was the least he could do, buying her a drink.
Of course, he possibly could have asked her if she wanted a drink. But she had come to a bar, why wouldn't she have wanted one?
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Quinn. You can call me Wednesday." That's the name he'd chosen to give people, it's the name most people these days knew him by. So of course he was going to tell Harley it was his name.