" She grabbed the bottle from the Knave's hand and without a word of apology or excuse tossed the entire contents back. It burned in a cardamomy, cinnamony, peony sort of way.
"Surely this will do something," she thought. "It feels strong!"
"I say," the Knave said, a little dismayed that his quaff had been quorffed. "

― Liz Braswell , Unbirthday