For better or for worse, Qrow is literally the last man on the entire ship who would judge his roommate for immediately comparing the heady scent invading their crowded little quarters to alcohol... because that's exactly what he's doing.

"Hm... you were onto something with cider," he admits, but the frown on his lips and on his gruff voice says that he seems to agree with McCree's judgment that it's not quite right. "Fruit wine? A strong one. One of those ones that'll knock you out even though it's pink."

Regardless, the fruity smell is having the pleasant effect of loosening up the sour mood that Qrow's developed over the course of this whole... moon adventure. Or maybe that's part withdrawal, who knows. Point is, this is helping. He swings his legs over the bed, finally sitting up the rest of the way. "This is weird. I want to drink it, but I don't."