[Witch does not do the decency of greeting Tangram as she strides through the common-enough space they've chosen to languish in. She crosses the room, sets a clear glass vial down on the table nearest to where Tangram's floating, says,] Eat this, [without breaking stride towards a chair on the other side, and sits down.
The vial, gold-tinted and decoratively shaped, isn't much larger than her thumb, with something swirling orange and yellow inside, glowing fiercely. If their metaphorical sinuses aren't too clogged by their allergies, Tangram will be able to sense that the whole thing, vial and all, is enchanted, in case the sight of it wasn't enough.]
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The vial, gold-tinted and decoratively shaped, isn't much larger than her thumb, with something swirling orange and yellow inside, glowing fiercely. If their metaphorical sinuses aren't too clogged by their allergies, Tangram will be able to sense that the whole thing, vial and all, is enchanted, in case the sight of it wasn't enough.]