"Sorry I only used a drop!" One says to the Proprietor.
The old man excuses himself to the customer he is waiting on and walks briskly over to you.
"Shew Me the bottle you opened!" he demands in his strange broken english.
Looking at him and not what your doing you reach toward the bottle. Your nervous and a shaking hand hits another tall thin bottle making it tip and roll off the shelf.
Nervous but quick you catch the vial before splattering on the floor.
"Whew, that was too close!" one says as looking up to the old man who is in a cold stare upward above his head.
You glance a look up and there wobbling on the high shelf is the still half uncorked vial of what you tried on your neck.
Now wildly scared and too foolish for words you straighten up, reaching to steady the vial before it drops, then your eye sees movement.
In all too well remembered caution the old man steps to one side of the shelf unit.
This short glance was all that the Fates needed to spring a big lot of trouble into the life of a foolish person. Looking back its the terrifing sight of the vial tiping over and as the cork pops out it falls off the shelf.
Fevered and scared hands graffle for the vial as tiny droplets fill the air raining down over your head, neck, and bare arms.
Fear has your mouth open ready to scream and with the air saturated in droplets of the Proprietor's potion it even gets into your mouth.
The sight of trouble from across the room has a short Chinese woman watching what you just caused. The Proprietor is taking two more steps back knowing the potency of his brew.
"Errg!" your groan as the horrid taste of the potion mixes with saliva bring it's full tendency to bare.
A half step toward the Proprietor, your hands out as if begging for help and then it hits like a tone of bricks.