As fucked up as the cocktail Harriet had just created inevitably was, her godbrain was doing her one favor -- she could casually and easily remember everything that went into it, and how much of it -- even sight-measuring the liquids as she poured them.

So if this cocktail did not kill her, BY GOD, she could learn from her mistakes.

Harriet did not yet anticipate how painful learning from cocktail-related mistakes could turn out to be.

She wandered back out toward the others, drink in hand. Whoa, it was Rasmus! Wave wave wave from the background.