He's sick of stamina draughts. He can't count how many he's had in the last several days.

But it would take energy Cullen hasn't got to argue. He takes the vial, uncorks it, downs it. The effect is instantaneous: Cullen shudders, shifts on his feet. "Thank you." He starts walking, slow. "If you -- if you want to see... you can read the report while I... do something." He rubs at his eyes.

"She says I can't work for three days." And that's a little sullen.