Norman looked at the beer with a considerable amount of anxiety. Mother was in the back of his head scowling at him like a mad rooster. Still, he took the beer, clearing his throat with a cough at the same time. He wouldn't drink it. At least, he didn't think he would drink it. Norman wasn't much for inebriation. (But maybe it was time to change?)
No. He still preferred milk.
"N-no. I don't think so."
Norman fidgeted.
Then she asked him about how long he'd been there and Norman really had to stop and think. Well, because in a way, he felt like he had always been here.
"Years," he finally replied. "I left for a little bit. But then I came back."