There is a certain tightness across Wei Wuxian's shoulders, across his expression, at the mention of home. Of missing home.

This is... unwise. He knows this is unwise - he is not tucked behind his wards, not secure in his surroundings...

But he is so very tired of being wise.

So very tired.

He tilts his glass back, downing the unfamiliar liquid with the ease of a pro. And he makes such a face at its bitter bite.
"What is that, medicine?" He demands, popping a fried lotus chip in his mouth to wash out the flavor.