"If you must, I suppose," Aleanna smiles, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards as she feigns the kind of sigh she's observed Orlaisian noblewomen make when they insist they're about to faint. She enjoys the darkness of his eyes, the way they look entirely without end, even in the shine of the lanterns. There's something ethereal about the man and his appearance that she quite enjoys.

"Though I feel I must warn you: I make a terrible patient." Something he actually likely knows already, given everything that's recently taken place.

She accepts the mug, grateful for the warmth of it between her hands. She considers what he says and she nods.

"I don't suppose it tastes any better this time?" She doubts it, but she can still hope. She braces herself before bringing the mug to her lips. She downs it in one go.