The guilty look on Sonia's face is answer enough, even though she hesitates in answering, taking the bottle gratefully. "I...think so," she hedges, chewing on her lower lip. "They seemed interested in you, full stop. I must be the only one here who doesn't want to know the future."

Other than the broad strokes she'd asked Miles about, and the underlying certainty that this war would end one day, and it would end in their favor somehow. She pops the cap off the bottle and takes an inadvisably long drink that leaves her coughing as she holds the bottle back out to Miles. She'd forgotten how much it burns. "God," she croaks, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, "you know it's bad when you've missed maple mead."