The long-suffering look on his face makes Nyx laugh. It feels good to laugh; he doesn't get to do it very often anymore.

"I admit you do make a mean cocktail." Maybe a little too mean, if he remembers correctly. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that half of their trysts started with alcohol that didn't burn so much as delight his tongue. He never made that sort of thing himself back in Galahd. They didn't have the kind of alcohol that could.