[Well, she could definitely tell it was sour, from the smell lingering on her coat. And it didn't smell alcoholic, at least.]

I... suppose, if you speak so highly of it. Though I confess, I don't have much of a sweet tooth.

[The cup was still resting in her palm, and Mòrag probably looked as awkward as she felt, bringing it close enough to sip from. Bonus awkward points, since drinking from something that clearly had some fraction of sentience was... odd.]

[And really, it wasn't bad. And tasted kind of familiar.] This is... what did that Nopon call it? [The soldier pauses, searching for the word.] Ah, yes. It's similar to sourlip drink.