Gil opened a door then nudged a pressure plate switch with his elbow. "Mind your head," he said turning sharp right and trotted down the stairs before answering - wooden stairs, obviously recently refurbished with a sound hand rail to one side and a broad incline to the other with a high lip on the outer edge.
Gil flicked it. "Makes it easier to get cases down here. I copied it from some of the old pubs back home."
He put on another light and sighed. "As you can see it's mostly beer. What wine we stock is - um - as unchallenging as the menu." He grinned. "Your uncle wouldn't be impressed, but you gotta remember that we're mostly catering for people who are astonished at the popularity of Chateau Maison."