"That's not it," Arthur replied, "I just thought you might have made a special trip to fish him out of the Thames River."
Fiona wagged a finger: "No, no, no, Mr. Hastings, you haven't paid me yet. Let him soak in the river for a bit longer. Besides, could you really bear to watch such a delicate and frail lady stand outside the door?"
Arthur looked around and then stepped aside to make way: "I'm not in the habit of refusing ladies, but I must make it clear beforehand, I do not provide opium tincture here."
Upon hearing this, Fiona merely gave him an unimpressed look and let out a light snort: "Kicked that habit."
"What about coffee?"
"Too bitter."
"Tea?"
"Only drink Ceylon."
"Soda water?"
"It makes me burp, not ladylike at all."
Arthur slammed the door shut with a bang: "You're here to pick a fight, aren't you?"
"Oh! Mr. Hastings, can't you be a bit more gentlemanly?"