Eliot hooked one of the stool legs closest to him and pulled it out just enough to settle down on top of it. "This guy really likes giving us plenty of choices except the one we really want, doesn't he?" Then again, maybe it was just to impress the incoming clientele. If he could bring on a rain storm like it was nothing, having beer available from every available source was probably nothing.
"Give me a Budweiser." He was no beer connoisseur, even if he had tasted drafts from all over the world. Sometimes the most familiar just tasted the best. "I'll leave the hard stuff for another time." That and sparring with more than a little alcohol in his system was a bad idea. Less control.
Following a moment of silence, his shoulders rose in an uncertain shrug. "I don't know. I sure as hell don't feel made up." He reached up to touch the scar on his eyebrow, the one that had come from Mikal Dyan bouncing his head off a pipe. He wondered if that one was on the show too. "I've got the scars and memories. Maybe we are fictional, but we're still real. Wouldn't be miserable and soggy if we weren't."