"Wine? It's that drink, you know, the uhh, fruity one... in the bottles," Slay explained awkwardly, gesticulating with his free hand. He had seen it at the last big pack gathering, around the bonfire; what season had that been, anyway? Could it have been an entire year ago? That seemed unlikely... although Haku's kids had been little puppies then, so it must have been. He shook his head, ruing how quickly time had passed him by. He certainly didn't feel five years old. "Wine is something humans made. It makes you funny if you drink too much of it. Like -- giggly, and you stumble a lot," he added unhelpfully. He had only tried a small taste of the stuff; it was sour to his tastebuds. He'd rather eat its parent fruit, the delicious grapes.
The werewolf settled near him, determinedly eating more of the vineyard's offerings that she collected on the lap of her skirts. Slay hadn't been around many shifters that adopted clothing, so he found himself eying the garment out of curiosity. Dresses were supposed to be a feminine raiment, to the best of his meager knowledge. Would Cercelee ever want to wear one, if he found it for her? She was really a tomboy, though, so probably not. He was always trying to keep his eyes peeled for small gifts, since it made him feel a little better about having burdened her for so long -- "I'm sorry, what? Oh, Tokyo, right! I'm called Slay. My den is the church near here." He grinned in embarrassment, not intending to ignore her again. Distractions came easily to the daydreamer, though.