Yseult drinks, and lets him turn it around in his head as she's been doing, intermittently, since she learned. Hearing him say it aloud is strange, somehow twitching along her skin and making her want to shift where she sits, stretch and crack limbs. She's not sure if it's a good feeling or a bad one.

She holds still except to drink again, and then shrugs. "Maybe. I haven't searched the records for it."