[ John doesn't laugh, because that would be a dick move. He does smile, because nobody's perfect. ]

Yours is fine. [ He taps the spoon at the teapot's rim and the blood goes schlorp back into the liquid as one big ugly clot. ] You know, we haven't figured out why they want us to drink it.

[ (Because it'll kill them, probably. Anything that had John heaving up his guts ought to drop an elephant.) ]

But this isn't the first time this stuff has shown up. The good news is also the bad news: it's not exactly human.