Sleuth's honestly surprised that the door actually opens; when it does, though, he grins up at his host like the cat that got the cream.

"Howdy, scarecrow."

He watches as Bariyan takes a swig. Yes, good--more drinking, that's something he'll drink to--and moves his own bottle to clink them together in a clumsy toast.

"Birds of a feather," he tries to say. It sounds more like "hhblalcohol."