Without hesitation, Cade does so. He's still blushing, and his eyes rove nervously over the tavern and its other occupants, approximately zero of whom are paying any attention to them whatsoever.
He sets his cup down again and rests both hands on the table, lacing and unlacing his fingers over and over as he muddles through his thought process.
"I just..." he says, in a total whisper this time, keeping his eyes averted, "...it feels... I've never gone so long before. Without." He purses his lips and glances anxiously up at Zevran, perhaps looking for judgment in spite of the man's assertion.
"And sometimes, um." He looks away again. "I just. ...felt better. After." Maker's breath, Harimann, get more pathetic, it's still possible.