In truth, he'd been warned. And in truth, he'd shrugged off the warning. He's had mead before, is hardly some fresh-faced boy having his first goblet of ale; the logic had seemed perfect up until the maple mead started burning its way down his throat. He can only be thankful certain people (not naming any names but those like Merlin and Guinevere come to mind) aren't there to notice the undignified way he chokes, eyebrows shooting up.

Which isn't to say that no one does. He doesn't balk at being noticed so much as he might've, noting her as a fellow draftee and somewhat younger at that, just answers dryly.

"It'll keep anyone from freezing, that's for certain."