[Is Luca just barely smirking as Sesa coughs and sputters. Serves him right for moping about on his bar.]

Mm. I thought you'd be able to handle that better.

[He reaches for one of the shot glasses, twisting it around in his fingers without sloshing the liquid.]

Where I'm from, we call it Phoenix Fire. Whiskey, mixed with a healthy amount of cinnamon. [The glass is set back down.] Do you want the rest of these, or am I going to have to waste it all?