[Alcohol lore... But, something sweet? In this case, their tastes align. Sunday has not allowed himself the indulgence; if it is in the service of someone else's preferences, however, there's no reason not to.]

That's kind of you. Anyone else would have seen fit to take advantage of the situation.

[He lifts his right arm, where his Watch sits overtop the sleeve of his jacket, and interacts with the electronic menu he finds there in proximity to the code pasted to the table. Technology affords privacy, he's learned in this place. He determines to ignore the bleakly low number of credits in his account after the transaction... What Lighter doesn't know won't hurt him...]

I'd like to ask, then. Why did you help me?