Olaf smiles winningly -- or as winningly as one can -- gesturing to himself with a palm to his chest. "My apologies," he says. "It's not that I have an allergy, but more that I don't recognize anyone in the crowd and I'm trying to make new friends. Apple martinis, generally, have always been a surefire way of doing it for me. Do you prefer something sweeter? Less sweet." He takes a step back to appraise the woman. "Stronger," he says. "Something out of this world."