"Won't you drink a bit more?"
The middle-aged man with black hair and eyes, his features sculpted and profound, pinched the glass with his right hand and clinked it against the glass of the wolf girl beside him.
He spoke in a gentle tone, softly saying, "The alcohol here isn't bad. Or maybe… are you still nervous?"
"No, it's just—"
Feeling Giralda's warm breath lightly expel onto her ear, stirring the grey-white fluff, Dorin immediately shivered and sat up straight.
She inadvertently let out a loud voice.
But she quickly realized, and before the others could turn their eyes towards her, she immediately shook her ears and lay on the table, keeping silent.
Dorin turned her head to the side and whispered, "Because, Lord Giralda… I can't tell the quality of a drink…"
"All of us wolf people are like that, with no discernment of wine quality."
"Wolf people cannot drink alcohol?"
There was a mild surprise in Annan's voice.
Dorin shook her head.
"It's not like that."
