Open bar or no, Quire's pretty sure he could get drunk on that.

"Yeah I do. I had one before I came in here," he looks around a little aimlessly. "But I don't where it's been since I went all Shakespearean soliloquy and frankly I would't trust someone not to have spiked it by now. Some real fucking rabble came through that temple earlier..."

Picking himself up he smirks at Kyle. "Ten million brilliant thoughts per second. If I get so much as a whiff of your motor neurons firing up with hostility..." he snaps his fingers next to his head and a crackle of the pink energy that sword was made of envelopes him. "You better hope there's a first aid kit full of finger splints in that sack of crap they're handing out at the temple." It's all well and good, but at the end of the day it does depend on one thing— whether or not he's paying any fucking attention.

"Kay," he gets a couple of steps and then stops to look at Kyle over the edge of his glasses. "But if you get me drunk just to take a swing at me I'm gonna turn your brain into a funnel cake."