His mouth opened, closed, then opened again without producing sound.
The Grand Reserve was supposed to be a gesture of respect, a demonstration that the Starfells still maintained quality befitting nobility.
Instead, it had been chugged like cheap ale and dismissed as flavorless.
Celeste placed the glass down, a subtle chuckle escaping her as she realized she had just resolved a minor, albeit momentarily perplexing, enigma.
"He's being polite, Starfell," she added helpfully, gesturing toward S as she returned to her chair. "He means your wine tastes like the gutter you're about to live in. But honestly? I think he's giving it too much credit. At least gutter water has flavor. This was just... sad."
She settled back into the expensive chair, feet coming up to rest on an ottoman that probably wasn't meant to be used as a footrest. Her posture communicated she was getting comfortable for whatever came next.
