Lancelot blinks at her slowly as she begins to talk, choke, flush, ramble more and down her drink and --

and, honestly? He can't quite be sure what to make of it. Twenty pounds a... pint? Even if he knows about vampires, Lancelot certainly hasn't considered people might do what she does. He supposes she must... work at a bar? A very... expensive bar? Good lord. His eyebrows loft slowly and he tilts his head, trying to decide how to respond. If he should go with it, on the assumption she's telling the truth, decide she's already drunk or drugged or mad -- yet no, her pupils weren't blown enough for that. Lancelot knows drunk and high when he sees them, he has rather a lot of experience with that. She could be out of her mind, but...

"Have you tried to break it?" he begins cautiously, rubbing his thumb against the side of his glass as he thinks. "I suppose you must have tried, so I really I'm asking how asking how much. Forgive me, I don't know too many people good at this sort of thing or I might be able to recommend something. Redbright might have something useful in its libraries...?"