Samuel's brow formed an expression that suggested that the question made no sense to him. "I'm taking more," he answered. "It's that, or I pass out soon."
The increase in alertness with this drug preceded a pendulum swing into drowsiness; it was inherent to the things he had bound together in its creation—mechanisms that did not belong together. He was up for way too long already. His body would not withstand the suppression and stay awake without aid. It was devious, of course -- a substance that always put up an ultimatum. Take more, or drop. Take more too early or too much, and pay the price. Either way, trapped. He held the vial to the light and shook it. "I'm taking half. Not much left anyway. Perhaps two doses total."
Slowly and measuredly he took the dropper in his hands. They got steady immediately. His stomach sent out a wave of nausea in anticipation, but that would not deter him for a second. From looking at it, his exhaustion already lessened. He was well trained. The years of abstaining had not changed that, it seemed. Samuel dropped the liquid into his mouth and twisted up his face in displeasure at the taste. He shook his head. Water drops fell from his hair.
Looking at Don Juan, sitting on the floor and gazing up to him, he said: "It's fine if you don't want to," he told him. "I'll put you in my bed until you sleep it off enough to go home." While he spoke, he drew half a dose up into the dropper and held it over him; Don Juan knelt already. Samuels eyes surveilled the face below him with idle curiosity. He had a hunch what would happen, was almost certain. Perhaps he was willing to be surprised.
The increase in alertness with this drug preceded a pendulum swing into drowsiness; it was inherent to the things he had bound together in its creation—mechanisms that did not belong together. He was up for way too long already. His body would not withstand the suppression and stay awake without aid. It was devious, of course -- a substance that always put up an ultimatum. Take more, or drop. Take more too early or too much, and pay the price. Either way, trapped. He held the vial to the light and shook it. "I'm taking half. Not much left anyway. Perhaps two doses total."
Slowly and measuredly he took the dropper in his hands. They got steady immediately. His stomach sent out a wave of nausea in anticipation, but that would not deter him for a second. From looking at it, his exhaustion already lessened. He was well trained. The years of abstaining had not changed that, it seemed. Samuel dropped the liquid into his mouth and twisted up his face in displeasure at the taste. He shook his head. Water drops fell from his hair.
Looking at Don Juan, sitting on the floor and gazing up to him, he said: "It's fine if you don't want to," he told him. "I'll put you in my bed until you sleep it off enough to go home." While he spoke, he drew half a dose up into the dropper and held it over him; Don Juan knelt already. Samuels eyes surveilled the face below him with idle curiosity. He had a hunch what would happen, was almost certain. Perhaps he was willing to be surprised.
