"You should tell Danyal and Jalabhar that you found wine." Beric looked up to Thoros with one eye, his face half-buried in Danyal's cloak, serving as a pillow on the rough floor of the cave. "It is not very kind to get drunk while they're sipping rain water."
"What makes you think I have wine?" Thoros shot an incredolous glance down to Beric. "This is water. You drank from the same bowl earlier." He lifted the bowl, the only one they had in the cavern, but Beric's reprimanding glare didn't change.
"You sound drunk. I know what you sound like when you're drunk." Beric paused and furrowed his brow in thought. "You sounded drunk," he corrected after some consideration. "Now you don't anymore."
"He was speaking Valyrian," Jalabhar tried to put an end to this confusion. "A prayer to the Lord of Light, from what I understood."
Beric's expression betrayed sudden shock at this revelation and he laboriously sat up from his makeshift bed. "The Lord of Light doesn't speak the common tongue?" he inquired, looking to Thoros. "I owe my life to a god who doesn't understand me? Will I have to get drunk now each time I pray?"