Though Teren hesitates, as she is wont to do, she concedes more easily than she normally would. With a small sigh, she stiffly makes her way to sit down by Anders-- it's clear she's still recovering from the encounter with the fist-from-the-floor, but she's taking it into stride the way she always does.
Once she's seated herself, she brandishes a small flask, takes a pull, and hands it to Anders. Whiskey, and not especially good whiskey. As far as she's concerned, it's the strength of it that matters.