[The flavour is richer on his tongue, finer than the previous vintage that he had been drinking. He will give that much to Porthos, although whether it is a fluke or a keen eye and nose, Aramis cannot say.

There is a moment where he debates playing the role, of putting on the act of sputtering and gasping, but why waste the alcohol? He finishes the cup, and smacks his lips lightly, and the gleam in his eyes grows.]

I fear today is not your day, Porthos, for you shall have to suffer another day of my handsomeness overshadowing your own.