"Truth be told," Sookie says, her nose wrinkling as she ducks down underneath the bar to root through the fridge, "I'm not that fussy either. I know it's probably not something I should admit when I'm behind the bar or whatever, but I always thought that the whole fuss over all these beers is more of an image thing than anything else. I'm sure the taste is different and all, but I really can't tell what's better or worse."

Uncapping the beer and carefully wiping away the condensation before passing it over, Sookie leans forward, her elbows resting on the bar. "Or maybe that just means I'm too much of a country bumpkin."