She accepts the object reflexively and then proceeds to spend an inordinate amount of time staring at its contents with what can most accurately be defined as a mixture of suspicion and bafflement. Illyria mentally probes the substance for any sign of subterfuge and alcohol and, sensing nothing potentially threatening, gives it a wary sip.

This is not alcohol.

Alcohol was mildly painful and unpleasant.

This is not unpleasant.

Illyria does not know what she should be reading from this.

"I find this acceptable," she states finally.