"What's the problem?" Tave snapped. "I was just watching. Making sure you're not tossing weird crap into the mix. Someone's gotta check if you're not screwing it up."
Scum-Brew hesitated, eyes flicking between Tave and the brew. "No… I mean…" He dipped his finger again and tasted it once more.
His brows furrowed.
Slowly, he descended the ladder and leaned against it, rubbing his chest.
"Why does it taste stronger now? Like... sharper. It's hitting harder than before." He paused, then murmured, "My body feels... heavy. Like it's draining me. Are you sure you didn't add anything?"
"Shut the crap." Tave shrugged, arms crossed. "Your mess, not mine. I didn't touch your sludge."
Scum-Brew stared for a second longer, confused, then gave a strained little laugh.
"Haha… well, whatever it is, it's actually better now. Stronger. Maybe it needed something weird. Want another sip?"
"No. One was enough. Let the others drink it tomorrow and decide for themselves."
