Naturally, [ Astarion says to her suggestion of wine as he studies the doilies adorning the table. In truth, it's been centuries since wine tasted of anything but vinegar to him. Thank the gods it can still get him sloshed if he can choke enough of it down. ]

Scared? [ he scoffs. ] Am I not allowed to have a preference? I simply don't see how the addition of a few bitter little leaves makes hot water any more appealing. Besides, [ he says with a disdainful sniff. ] I don't relish the thought of scavenging someone else's picnic.

[ He turns away from the spread, feigning indifference. ]

Partake or don't. It makes little difference to me.