Lej sinks a dipper into the wassail bowl, ladles it into his cup "Hmmmmm...not bad. Still, it needs something." He scans the shining bottles behind the bar, his eyes, like flaming kestrals, alighting on a bottle of Bushmill's Irish Whisky. Unscrewing the cap, he pours it into the punch, stirs it, and dips a cup for Amos, who tastes, closes his eyes in concentration, and says "do we have any single malt Scotch? Take some of the sweet after-taste out of this stuff." And Amos at last locates a bottle of Glen Livet, adding its liquid fire to the recipe.