So Corvo's the kind of guy who starts at the whiskey stage of things. Good to know. Cloud has no complaints, so he slides his glass closer to him and takes a sniff. Not bad, he thinks. He's no Tifa, but living at Seventh Heaven has given him some basic understanding of what makes for good booze, even if in life it would have taken a ridiculous amount of it to affect him at all.

Not so much now, though. For better or worse.

"Not the social type, either, I take it?"