He's already been offered tea once, and he can't imagine it helping to curb the pain, so after a moment's hesitation he weakly says, "the wine." Fae wine will help take some of the sharpness away, though it won't drown it completely.

He slouches in his seat, leaning his head back on the couch and staring up at the ceiling pathetically, trying to figure out how he can talk about this, how he can share this without scaring her. Maybe he shouldn't at all - maybe he should go back to Faery and leave her so she won't have to carry his burden - but the thought of not being here is even more terrifying than the thought of talking to her about this, so he stays put.