Despite Luka bracing himself for whatever came through the portal, he certainly wasn't prepared for this.

He tenses when he hears the voice of none other than the Wizard herself, still conditioned to view her as threat.

"For me?" Is all he manages to spit out, noting the radiating heat and the muted *clunk* of the mug appearing on the bench. His unburnt hand moves toward it instinctively anyway, lifting the mug and settling it in his lap. "... do you have any milk? Sugar?"