Instead I graciously accept and ask bartender for a Greysdale mead. Or a sounten. Or a particular vintage of white wine. The name of the drink isn’t the important thing. The important thing is that the drink doesn’t really exist. The bartender gives me water. You pay for the drink, I thank you graciously, and everyone walks away happy. Later, the bartender, the tavern, and the musician share your money three ways.
