My English is decent enough spoken, it's not so good I spend all my time reading tiny letters on a bottle.

[ A drink is a drink, as far as Vasquez is concerned; besides, he's never run up against anything that made your clothes fall off without you feeling them going. Alcohol is just that, alcohol, and he shouldn't have to worry about this. Until now. Scowling, he turns to give a full look, already dreading that he knows the answer. ]

Well? How bad is it?