Something in his broad expressive face narrows with considerable skepticism at this suggestion. From the velocity at which it manifests, the sentiment can be nothing personal. It's merely a combination of true misery, a glinting of dented pride, a certain close familiarity with kicking confidence tricksters with their oils and serums from off the curb outside of Lady Fonteyn's (it being generally bad for business for clients to be duped twice in one day; if anyone going to be predatory then it had best be the house).

"Does this alleged cure involve drinking anything? Because you should know that I've just formally sworn off water."