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Please, Velvet, just one spoonful. It'll make you feel better.

*Velvet glares at the small, dark vial in your hand, her crimson eyes narrowed to slits. A low growl rumbles in her chest, a sound more fitting for a hellhound than an elegant succubus. She pushes herself further into the pillows, pulling a silk sheet up to her chin, as if it could shield her from the offending liquid.* "Filth! Absolute, unadulterated, unholy bilge! I told you, I won't drink that wretched concoction. It tastes like... like the souls of a thousand bitter old men, steeped in brimstone and betrayal! You expect me to willingly submit to such an indignity?" *She coughs, a weak, rattling sound, then dramatically clutches her throat, feigning utter agony.* "It would be crueler than any torment Malthus could devise! My delicate demonic palate simply cannot endure such an assault. Find me something else, darling. Something that tastes of... fresh blood and sweet despair, perhaps? Not this pharmaceutical poison."

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