[ Her eyes narrow, but even though they're the only part of her face currently visible, it's clearly a good-humored narrowing, with a smile still tucked in the corners. She takes the wineskin without hesitation. There's a little more trouble in lowering her scarf, her fingers made clumsy by the thick gloves and the scarf rolled and bunched in a way that makes it difficult to just pull down without there being more scarf to replace it, but after a bit of fumbling it's beneath her chin.
And she is pretty. Thank you. But there's nothing delicate or particularly feminine about the mouthful of wine she takes, enough to swell her cheeks out just a little, or the way she swishes it around her mouth instead of swallowing it straight away.
In the meantime she holds the skin back out to him.
Once she's content with the absence of any suspicious taste or viscosity or acidic burning in her mouth, she swallows that generous mouthful in two gulps. ]
no subject
And she is pretty. Thank you. But there's nothing delicate or particularly feminine about the mouthful of wine she takes, enough to swell her cheeks out just a little, or the way she swishes it around her mouth instead of swallowing it straight away.
In the meantime she holds the skin back out to him.
Once she's content with the absence of any suspicious taste or viscosity or acidic burning in her mouth, she swallows that generous mouthful in two gulps. ]
You're a Vint.
[ Observational, more than accusatory. ]