He sits down, bracing his arms on his knees and uncorking the potions with one hand, emptying them one after another. Neither tastes awful, like most potions do, though the second tastes so cloyingly sweet it makes him swallow a few times. Like syrup stuck in the throat, it needs to be forced down, but once he manages, a sudden heat rushes through him, like the burn in your chest from drinking cocoa hot enough to scorch your tongue right after coming in out of a snowstorm. Intense, everywhere, all at once, he shudders all the way through and flexes different muscles without thinking about it.