"I'll be honest, I do not know," she replies, tilting her drink in his direction. It is frosty, poured into a tall, narrow glass, with a layer of yellow-green globules at the bottom of a violently blue concoction. There's a rime of crystalline sugar around the edge, and a long straw that reaches all the way to the bottom, itself pink and decorated in the image of a flamingo. There is an umbrella. There is fizz, "But it's got enough booze to kill a man. That's what matters."

The brighter the frog, the more deadly the poison, as they say.

"You look like you got something to say."