[He takes the mug, feeling the distant warmth blooming at his fingertips. The smell catches in his nostrils, though he does not drink from the mug just yet. Ardyn tilts his head at her at the question.]

Just the one. [Whether or not he means his immortality or whatever else it might ail him as a result remains to be seen. It's said with frustrating weightlessness, so it's difficult to know.]

I told you, I can't get sick otherwise. [This time he does lift the tea to his lips, taking a small sip. It's pleasant enough.] Beyond that, I've been well enough. Adjusting to this world is something of a challenge, but I've adapted to change before, and I can do so now.

And yourself? [Because it's only polite to return such questions.]