Frisk nods, and types a little more on their phone. It's not a message. Whatever they've done, it prompts an image of a jug of cider to appear above the screen. The child grabs it by the handle, apparently just before it gains actual substance and weight, and pulls it away. It's fairly large, made of brown glass and still covered in cobwebs.

"No glass," they say, not bothering to shift things so that they've got a free hand for typing. They're busy pulling the cork out before they hand it over. They always drink right from the jug; they don't care if the frog does also. "Just pour careful."