Shen Yuan nods at this, remembering how he'd almost instinctively dodged around Sagramore's drink, earlier, only to realize it wasn't there. On some level, though, he is surprised—it had seemed such a part and parcel with Sagramore's charm, the ex-knight with his curls, the twinkle in his eye, the drink in his hand. It's yet another reminder of the reality of the people he's surrounded by, rather than their fictional counterparts. No charmingly drunken knights in any myth he's heard have husbands concerned about their alcoholism.

"What about the alternative is worse?" he asks, curious. "Or—I suppose—what is it that drink gives you? I've never really understood the appeal, other than as a social thing."