Ben took the bottle as she offered it to him, noticing with some surprise that he recognized the label. He hadn't noticed anything had been missing, since he had quite the collection downstairs and he hadn't been indulging as much as he might've in the days before their marriage. Not that he was intentionally trying to cut back, necessarily, but he'd been the type before to break out bottles for nightly parties at Excalibur's and other such things, which obviously weren't a part of his life anymore. He wondered if it was the first (or only) one she'd taken, but didn't know how to ask without sounding as though he was trying to police her.

And she'd asked him something else, one of those big questions, and if he asked about the liquor bottle she'd think he was trying to avoid answering it.

"Real," he said with a sigh, testing the word on his tongue. "I don't know if I've ever had anything that was real," he admitted. "I don't know what real means. When we were first talking... I don't know. It was different," he said with a shrug, moving to put the bottle on the nearby nightstand without drinking from it. "But I don't know if that's enough to say it was real."

He hesitated, feeling like he should say something else but not sure what to follow it with. "Sorry," he finally added rather lamely.