Aidan looks very quizzical. That's what he feels like, too. He ain't rightly sure what's going on with the sudden gift, but he ain't one to look a gift bottle in the mouth. If it had a mouth. Look a gift bottle in the neck? Something like that.
"I think I'll leave it here if you don't mind," he answers. "You can put my name on it." He downs the rest of his glass (just one swallow, it's an easy gesture) and stands up, spinning before adjusting the brim of his hat in a manner that you'd expect from a jazzman, not a copper. He isn't about to do the jazzy hands, though. He just grins.
"Ta very much, Scotty. For the chat and the whiskey."
And he turns around and walks away, hands in his pockets, whistling cheerfully. In this instant, life's grand.