Making a decision, Námo orders a pitcher of cola and another glass. When it arrives, he pours about a shot of the Atlantean into the glass and then cuts it with the cola and ice. One mixed, he scoots it toward him.

Giving the mortal straight Atlantean would not be wise, but this would still do far more than whatever else he had been drinking.

"Alcoholic and decent taste," he points out, taking another gulp of his.