Freya looks down at the menu, absently twisting the end of her braid around her fingers. "Um, tea if there is any, or failing that, whatever has the least amount of alcohol would be nice."
Mist taps at the back of her neck to get her attention. "You can burn off the alcohol, Freya."
"Doesn't mean I want to," she murmurs as quietly as possible, handing the menu back to Mike.
"Here," she holds out a few spheres. "To pay for my drink."