[ He sees the tiny glimmer of mischief in Sylvain's eye, shaking his head immediately to dispel any notion that he would do something like drink ambrosia. Though he's enjoyed enough of that odd, red brew that he isn't all wound up like usual.

Though he does still manage to be a rain cloud over the party. ]

I haven't seen Ingrid either. I... don't know if it's a relief or not that she's missing.

[ On the one hand, of course he doesn't want her to be dead. On the other, he can't imagine how hard it must be for someone like her to lose her friends, her comrades, and her liege in one fell swoop. Sometimes being the one left standing is worse.

Also, there's the possibility that she's dead and simply somewhere else, or lost and alone. But Ingrid is a faraway concern compared to the one in front of him right this instant. ]

I had hoped we would not be reunited so soon, Sylvain.