Hilda pursed her lips, her eyes flashing with a smile, and she shoved at his arm before he drew away.
"Tease," she pronounced. "Don’t make fun. I’m the patron with the rupees, you know."
She balanced her chin in one palm and watched him mix. What more could she ask of him now? She supposed she should know more about who lived nearby…there’s a start. She didn’t trust herself with answering anymore questions, however. Who knows what grave she just dug for herself—
Her eyes widened at the sight of the translucent lightly-berry colored drink. Was it supposed to fizz like that? As he listed the ingredients, her expression grew more aghast, until finally she threw her head back and laughed aloud.
"Cotton candy!" she exclaimed. "Why, whatever kind of drink contains so much alcohol it loses its flavor?”
Hilda stared at the glass. A large decanter, yes, but it wasn’t filled to the brim. She experimentally swished it against the glass sides and, when she let the bubbles settle, she took a small sip off the rim.
She mused her lips, letting the flavor sink in, and immediately coughed. The sugars stuck to her mouth like cotton candy indeed, but how it burned.
"You…" she began, then coughed again behind her palm. "Trickster you!"
She shook her head, took a deep breath, and tried yet another sip.
"…It is delicious," she conceded. "But you cannot let it touch your tongue. Much like Terminian absinthe—oh, listen to me," she hummed, "I must sound like a woman of habit to you. I assure you, I do not partake much."
She sighed. “I have just had…quite a week. Are Hylians always this eventful?”