Still fighting the fatigue, Fifi nonetheless enjoys the wine-- it's far finer than anything she's used to drinking, and if it takes being awake in the middle of the night to partake, then so be it. Without moving her head much, she shifts her gaze to Lexie when the woman makes her glass sing, a small smirk twitching onto the elf's face. Cute.

"Well," she says quietly, "I'm fond of meat pies, though they're not a pastry in the dessert sense. And I mostly saw the sea in Val Royeaux at night, so I suppose I prefer it here. Blue instead of black." She leaves the question of love unanswered, for now. It's too close still, too much of her heart to disclose to an employer.