Bottoms up. [The Marquis takes a sip from his own glass, himself. Much, much better wine than what his old room had -- that had been spirits from the asylum cellar, after all.] I forgot what real wine tasted like. [This is not to say that he hasn't had drinks in Pavi's room, but wine that he knows? Wine that he remembers, and savored? That's another story. There's such a huge difference.]