Kuai has a large mug of tea, holding it in both hands and sipping it while keeping an eye on everyone around them. He sits across from Rosinante far warier than he'd been previous tea dates. His optimistic nature has taken a beating in the past almost-year.

"How are you faring?" He's been worried about everyone. Not so much for their wounds which would mend in time, but for the memories, which would take far more than time to dull. Torture, pain, suffering, it stays with you even if distance starts to numb the pain.