[Her ears airplane a little at the offer, revealing her moment of thoughtful consideration, before Cantarella takes the glass.

Like a good aficionado and fantasy-Italian, she enjoys the bouquet of the wine before trying it. The inelegance of sharing a wine glass, as well as the potential dangers, don't seem to faze her.]

Then I must have missed the memo... I was always rather little. [Don't say a word.] But I do still remember a winged horse from my youth.