Kit would probably be down with green beer too, once someone took the time to ensure him it wasn't going to taste like moss or lichen.

"Cheers," he answers, lifting up his beer. That grin was a good sign, wasn't it? Finishing off one mug, he shifts to reach into his coat pocket and fetches out a well-worn deck of cards which sport suites that are understandably alien; it isn't like anyone plays Wicked Grace or Diamond Back outside of Thedas. "How do you feel about cards?" he asks, absently shuffling the deck like he could do it in his sleep. (He probably could.)