It's the strong scent of the apples that pulls him out of himself somewhat, and Emery reaches out to take the goblet as it's offered to him. Then Wilde speaks again and he chuckles some, a quiet and abashed sound that's accompanied by a downward glance at his drink.

"That's kind of you to say," he answers, humbled and a bit embarrassed, then lifts his mug to his lips to drink from it. At the taste--and its potency--he raises his eyebrows some and then nods at the jug.

"It has quite a kick, this stuff. You brew it yourself?"