He looks down into the drink with suspicion even though he'd made it with his own hands. If anything, the warmth feels nice as he drags the mug closer and takes a swig. It isn't immensely flavorful, but that should make it easier to drink, too. Frank slides it back to her, the tiniest of smiles touching his lips.

"It's not the worst thing I've tasted." Of course, his standards are much lower than most. He's starting to realize she'd been holed up here with these moths for who knows how long, like the tea is raising the fog over his own mind. He needs to stop keeping his distance because he thinks it's what she wants, there's a very real threat to their survival here every day even if it isn't as apparent as it was in Reims. "Drink it all, okay?"