"Morning, sunshine," Mark said to the boy, walking in from the back. Mark had stayed the night with his new bartender friend in what used to be an "office," and awoke to see one of the bar patrons still there. The kid had been in the bar all night drinking, however he never seemed to managed to get really drunk. The amount he drank would've probably gotten Mark himself halfway there and he had been at it for far longer than some teenager. The kid looked downright miserable, too.
"I love a drink, but I never encouraged drunkenness by harping on its alleged funny side. Twain. You didn't come here for a laugh," he noted the strange look on the kid's face, "and if you did, doesn't look like you quite accomplished that."
Mark was admittedly curious how someone so young, and also tiny, could hold that much booze and have it seemingly do nothing.