Strange that he wants to believe this smiling woman, and trust, but it isn't trust or belief that is the problem. Sasuke holds the cup in hand and stares down into the murky color; the scent steaming off of it threatens to turn his stomach, but his constitution is strong-willed enough that it doesn't become overwhelming. The nausea is easily schooled. He's endured worse.

"You say it with certainty," comes his low voice, still on the verge of compliance. And yet. "... Even if that's what I would experience, it wouldn't be real."

It occurs to him that he's afraid of what it would be like. Real or not, warm thoughts and earthly pleasures are beyond his reach. Would it have any effect on him at all? Perhaps his tolerance or chakra would impede it; then again, it hadn't for the food. "What was it like for you?"