[Lea releases the bottle readily, after a hint of resistance. Its contents probably smell fine, unless a) the Chamberlain has taken to passive-aggressive beverage gestures, or b) someone with a very weird craving requested it specifically. Fingers crossed he didn't steal the salted black liquorice of liquors.]

Well, he vigorously instructed me to do a few unpleasant things, called me a prick, and, strangely, accused me of not knowing you at all. Which is true, I suppose. But we're going to remedy that, aren't we?