Rincewind cast a desperate look at the door he should have escaped through almost five minutes before (1).
"How is it?"
He gulped as Twoflower slipped into the seat opposite him, face shining with an almost infectious natural Ankh-Morporkian distrust of anything new (2) clashed with Twoflower's inability to understand (or listen to) the word no as Rincewind grasped the mug in front of him, sweet smell in the air despite the stink of the river, and took a sip. Spices exploded across his tongue and he drank deeply as Twoflower beamed and immediately launched into the history of the drink.
—-
(1) He wasn't in the habit of ignoring his instincts, especially when they were telling him to run as he had never been wrong before. But he had taken another look at Twoflower's earnest face and had swiftly found himself sitting at a table, faintly steaming drink in front of him.
(2) It was a matter of civic pride in some circles. Groups would meet in order to boast about all the new things they had eschewed that week.