The remark about being far too attractive and interesting earns an eyeroll, but the effect is softened by a chuckle. Wilhelm shakes his head, knocking back his cup. By now, he's that level of buzzed where you begin to feel fuzzy around the edges, like you're floating away from yourself. It's a nice feeling.

"It sounds like a cool place." His expression falters sheepishly, as he remembers all the gangs that are supposed to be skulking around Jesper's city. That must mean it's a dangerous place as well. A place defined by a sharp divide between haves and have-nots. He quickly amends, "I mean, it sounds like it would be hard to get bored."

Because he can hear the wistfulness that colors Jesper's sketch of Ketterdam, he doesn't have to ask if he misses it. Wilhelm assumes everyone here is homesick in one way or another. Even him, who felt suffocated in his actual home. Who was left with the weight of all the things he didn't want, and the broken pieces of those he did want. But the point of the booze was to leave all of that behind.

"Especially if you're in a gang full of such interesting and attractive people." Grinning at his own joke, he raises his eyebrows at Jesper.