"I've been through worse," she says, lightly enough, before considering her bottle. Jazz purrs, low, pleased and sluggish. "You're welcome to this, but it's not... appetizing, exactly. Just good at doing its job."

Fortescue considers trying to use her magic to get something for him, but then decides against it. Her accuracy is shot from the pain, and Blood magic strains the connection as it is. Best not to risk smashing a perfectly good bottle of something.