He has no way of knowing what a raging drunk I was in university, or that I had a brief flirtation with single malt a few years back. Oddly enough I'd never tried Johnny Walker before.
So I theatrically sniff the opening of the bottle, take a slug, swallow, and take a deep breath so as not to waste a single fume.
He laughs, I've passed the test.
"So why did you sniff the bottle?"
"Well, I want to actually taste it and enjoy it. If all I wanted was to get drunk, I could just drink fucking mouthwash."
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