Holding Athos's gloved hands makes Porthos wish he could be wearing, for a fleeting second. It's not the kind of thought worth lingering on, but it's one more reason to hate the change that has come over him. He isn't sure he could show Athos again, so he huffs out a gruff little sigh, then offers an alternative that is certain to meet Athos's approval. "Or we could just drink," with a sweep of his hand indicating the bottle of wine he's left leaning against one of the nearby trees.

The water might be fine here, but he still doesn't like its taste, if it can be called a taste.