[She glances over at the cider, and then away again. Honestly, she'd forgotten about it, and while she doesn't think it's poisoned anymore - doesn't think he's either malicious or devious enough for that - she still has no urge to drink it. It's a matter of principle, at this point - or maybe it's just that she doesn't let herself get in the habit of accepting drinks from strangers, no matter who or where they are.]
no subject
I'm not thirsty.