It seemed every time he looked away from the bar, someone else was coming in and Oliver had to adjust his order. The bartender, Tom, was going to lose his patience very soon, and something told Oliver he wouldn't want that to happen. In the end, six drinks were laid on a tray and Oliver brought the lot over.
"Put what in my drink?" he asked rhetorically. If anyone answered, Oliver would be quite surprised.
He moved on easily, setting all six drinks in the very centre of the table. "Three of these drinks are delicious, three of them are vile. You are responsible for taking whichever drink you like and I'll take the one that's left. Fair?" It was fair. He knew damn well it was fair, he wasn't getting a choice in what he got and was at the mercy of everyone else around the table. "Fight it out amongst yourselves for the drink of your choice. Move over again, will you Harry?"