The bartender gave Eli a blank look, which didn't bode well. Fortunately for the guy's face (because Eli was about ready to punch someone if it meant it would get him a healthy dose of pop culture), there were two people on duty, working over the long, nearly-full bar, and the woman with the frizzy, bright red hair gently urged the guy with the sloping forehead further down, and then began to expertly arrange a veritable arsenal of bottles on the bar, EverClear and Wild Turkey not the least among them. Eli watched with interest as she pulled out lemon-lime soda, rather than Gatorade.
Which was around the time when some dude slid onto the stool next to him and started talking. Which was the absolute last thing Eli wanted, because he sucked out loud at talking to people without a screen to hide behind (yeah, he was self-aware enough to admit it). Combined with the pain of his slowly-healing ribs and the utter creepiness of finding a dead bird in a bag in his pocket...it was sort of understandable that he wouldn't be interested in talking.
"Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster," Eli repeated. "It's a fictional cocktail. From the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. By Douglas Adams?" Oh god, this guy looked like, fifty, there was no way he was going to understand any references at all. But then, Eli had known a few people who were older, who were generally pretty cool with keeping up with the rest of the world. Maybe this was just a momentary lapse or something.
He realized that he was still holding his creepy bag o'bones, and he quickly pulled the leather thongs, closing the bag, and then shoved it into his pocket again. He'd deal with it later. Eli gestured towards the conga line of alcohol that the bartender was only now beginning to put away. "EverClear," he pointed out, "gin, Wild Turkey, tequila, rum, and lemon-lime soda. I've only ever had it made with Gatorade, but whatever. It's basically every important food group on the Alcohol Pyramid." The bartender nudged the glass forward, and Eli took a sip. His broken ribs immediately ceased to matter.