"Have you ever had horchata?" the man spoke to me only after draining half the glass of milky liquid, straining it through his thick moustache. "In this heat, it feels great. Tastes good too. It's Mexican."

"No, I've never tried it. I mostly ate mom's cooking as a kid. Got used to it."

"Hah, is that so?" Well here, have some. The glass slid towards me, glistening and half-full.

"No, that's alright."

"Don't waste your manners, son, try it, I don't mind. I couldn't enjoy the rest of it anyway, denying you the relief. Aren't you hot too, with that suit on and all?"

I wasn't particularly thirsty, and his moustache, still glistening with the milky liquid, made me feel disgusted at even the thought of the glass. However, the man was in a position of power relative to me, so I was compelled. "It's good."