He hadn't expected to have his question turned around on him, and he watched the man for a long minute before taking the bottle back and taking a much longer drink, this time.

He had never drank so freely until he had travelled with Mu-Yeong. Every glass could contain poison, every smile a dagger. He knew that better than anyone.

But he was tired. And he had nothing anyone wanted, here.

He frowned down into the bottle, trying to understand why he was drawn toward Mingyu at all. Why had he come, summoned thus like a servant?

Was he that desperate for companionship of any kind? Sure, they had shared an escape, the discovery of a foreign world. A language. But he could say similar things for others here. And yet he did not gravitate toward them in the same way. By all accounts, Mingyu was the same kind of shrewd that did well in the palace. The kind that often sought him dead. But maybe it just meant he thought he understood Mingyu better. Mingyu was a survivor. And who else would you want with you in an alien world?

Was it simply that the man had a face that could be carved from jade?

"Because you asked," He replied after a moment, finally turning his head to look at Mingyu slumped against him.