"Maybe too well. My hope was that it'd be bad enough to swallow down once that they'd figure not to overdo things again. Instead I get repeat offenders. Might be masochistic, who knows."

Tau shrugs. "Not like I dump it down anyone's throat if they don't want it."

He looks back over towards the table as he notices someone tottering over, stepping back to grab one of the shot glasses from a stack he's commandeered. "Hold your breath," he warns Matt's way, tapping a bit of the powder from the mortar into the glass before he adds other things from little vials and bottles, dusting off his hands from crushing a tiny pod to add to the mix before he slides it over, as though he's merely conducting his own bartending. If Matt doesn't take his advice he might catch the pungent whiff, with a sharpness like a spice that might threaten to punch one in the face.

The bleary-eyed Corsair scoops up the glass, making a disgusted noise as he hesitates but a moment before downing its contents in one gulp.