"Actually, we'll pass," you tell the bartender, not letting Becky get one either. On an island with werewolves, you're not drinking anything named "lupus," "lupo," or "lupine," in the name. You've seen enough horror movies to know better. (Of course that DOES beg the question why you ran into a bar and grille called "The Howling Beast Inn"....)
The bartender rolls her eyes in contempt, muttering something that sounds like, "Guess we'll be doing this the traditional way with you two then,"...but you couldn't be sure. Your paranoia might simply have been getting the better of you.
"Drink up, girls," says one of the men at the bar, "It'll put the beast in your belly!"
"Yeah, that sounds attractive," Becky said sarcastically.
"Becky!" you hiss, "Don't!"
The man turns to Becky, swiveling on his stool, "I've got a beast to put in YOUR belly, girl!"
"I don't think so, champ!" Becky snaps back, "You try and put anything in ME, and you'll be pulling back a stump!"
"Becky, let's go!" you say, pulling her by the arm towards the door.