Erik picked up the glass dubiously and sniffed at it, not at all sure what concoction she'd ordered them this time. Then the scent of it his his nostrils and he gasped. Once sip and he tossed the rest down after it. "U*isge beatha*," he repeated, almost on a soft whisper. "I've heard others talk about monks brewin something that was earthier than or and ale. A few lucky sods had even tasted th'brew and took t'callin it the water of life, but I've never had chance to s'much as sniff a barrel cork. Now I know those I'd heard it mentioned from weren't having me on fer a jest."