the gull and the druid

You politely demand the druid give you ice for your beverage,

anger now visible on your kind, patient face. He smiles a wicked and smelly smile, "Alright then, but you must EARN it. Choose a hand." he cackles, raising his three fists to you.

Left Hand.

Right Hand.

Phone A Friend.

Use your last remaining life-line to call for help.

Hmm?

Sorry I wasn't paying attention, can you say that again?