It was probably testament to Martha's generally confused state of mind and exhaustion that she didn't immediately tell the guy to bugger off. Instead, she stared at him for a moment or two more, then looked at the drink, which was very, very green in colour, and did sort of smell very brightly (if a drink could smell brightly) of apple.

"All right. Do you have an allergy?" she asked, deciding when in Rome--she'd used to be good at this playing it by ear and living on the wild side thing, hadn't she--and took the drink from him. The sip she took was very tiny (she knew that roofies couldn't really impact her at that small an amount, and maybe she was already hallucinating this?) and startlingly appley.

Martha cleared her throat and handed the drink back, still half-tasting the swallow. "I would say yes, that is quite fruity. If you do have an allergy, I'd say you should probably get something different," she felt compelled to add. Duty of care.