Nyxander was still lost in his swirling thoughts when the North Astro Lord's voice broke through.
"Hey, Nyxander," Astro Lord called out, raising his cup of wine towards him.
"Oh," Nyxander responded, instinctively lifting the cup of wine placed before him. Their glasses clinked together with a crisp chime that briefly pierced the ambient noise of the hall. Hildred took a hearty sip from his cup, but Nyxander merely set his glass back down, the liquid untouched.
"Is the wine bad?" Astro Lord asked, his tone laced with a curious undertone, as if probing.
Nyxander shook his head subtly. "Not at all. I just... I'm not a fan of wine." His voice was calm, yet beneath it lay a quiet restraint. In the privacy of his thoughts, he muttered, "Since I got recanted, I haven't eaten or drunk anything, not knowing how my body, as a Primordial, would react to it. My race, born without the need for food or drink, has no need for indulgences, much less to something as volatile as alcohol."
