It was whiskey, at some point, but without any proper supervision thanks to the flood it's sort of turned into more of a king's cup. Not that he's mad - the opposite, in fact. It's a perfect plan.

And when Jedao sidles up next to him he beams, hazy but genuine, and throws an arm around his shoulders. It is immediately obvious just how drunk he is, if the smell of his breath didn't give it away first.

"Jedao!" It's more of a cat yowl than a drawl, as he flops on Jedao and practically snuggles into his neck. "You're-- why are you so nice, you're not supposed to be this nice when you're this hot, it's- it's- who--" and he jabs his drink into Jedao's chest, spilling a few drops on his chest. "Who gave you permission to be this hot?"