"Calm the fuck down, it'th already lothing fuel!" he snapped peevishly. A thoughtful Capitolite threw actual water on it, diluting the alcohol. The flames died down. Psii tossed a bit of punch on it for good measure. The smell of fruit juice wafted up, promising to remind Psii of his failure. Gold star.

"How wath I thuppothed to know humanth liked drinking rocket fuel?"

He'd tried a bit of alcohol, both tonight and previously at a bar. He was regretting everything, and wondered if he wouldn't one day spontaneously combust.