She takes the shot glass from his hand, lifts it in a toast, and takes a delicate sip: fruit-sweet and rich and cold, as advertised, enough that she half expects to see her breath when she lowers the glass. The cold and sweetness mask the strength of it; the kick as she swallows is so subtle it's nearly subliminal.

She lets out a slow appreciative breath, and smiles at him over the rim of the shot glass.

"Very nice."