The bottles were small, mind you. Strong though, yes. It, like many other forms of 'poison', held little effect on him. However, he's come to enjoy the taste. The burn. Warming when in a cold habitat. Soothing, though he'd never admit it. And while the other male chooses to make his observations and judgments, Sasuke calmly sips away.

He does truly look young but there's something in his eyes, besides their mismatched and strange designs, that share an age beyond years. And there's a kitana on his back even if he wears an outfit much more suited toward a John Wayne movie than classic hollywood ninja. Though he'd argue he's hardly shinobi anymore. That system, that responsibility... he has quite an issue with.

And while the Uchiha's sensing abilities aren't as good as say Karin or Naruto, he's been around long enough to know something was up. He just wasn't necessarily concerned. How many times dying does it take to truly lose the fear of potential danger? It's a genuine desire to understand, and (hold on to your pants because here comes a real shocker) help that drives him.

Although perhaps the later is tied into a need to redeem himself. Wash the blood of his hands; cure the madness in his veins. He wouldn't be Uchiha Sasuke if there wasn't some selfish motive.

"By the way you're drinking I assume there's not much effect," he places the cup down, eyes drift toward John. "Though there's a lot that could fall under 'pain in the ass', I imagine."