Slade snorted quietly, "Apple, orange, or..." he pulled a bottle out of the fridge, studying it. "Boysenberry, apparently. Looks more like Rose's fault than Joe's, this time." He shook his head, and put the odd bottle back.

Worry about his daughter flashed through his mind, but he kept it off his face as he poured a glass of tea for himself and waited for his current guest to answer.