Not having thought to test for it and with a general unfamiliarity with a lot of the compounds used in the drink, Herbert doesn't like the thought of Foster potentially vomiting something useful up before it reaches his bloodstream.

"I trust," he begins, almost uncertain before he forces his voice to harden as much as it can, "that you're not about to, make more of a mess of yourself than you already are. You're pathetic--it was hardly a cup of liquid." He hopes that does it, but he steps to move his shoes out of the trajectory of Foster's mouth, just in case.

"Breathe slowly. Swallow." He bends slightly to grab Foster's bony shoulder, fingers digging in around it. "Get yourself onto your bed, I don't know how long I'll be forced to watch you but I'm not doing it standing in the middle of the room."