Mary smiles as she picks up the cat vial. She always had a fondness for cats, ever sence she was a little girl. She holds the vial to the light and looks at the amber-colored liquid inside with a slight misgiving...more than a slight misgiving.
It looks more like some kind of alcohol than anything else.
Mary shruggs. It can't hurt anything, to drink it. She's done worse on dares...friends telling her you couldn't drink that, you wouldn't, oh, MARY you wouldn't put THAT in your mouth...not sweet, pretty Mary, not our girl. And, of course, Mary does it. Because...well, Mary's never liked having people tell her what to do.
Finding this box of vials on her doorstep...hey, it's almost like a dare! And even if it's fake--and it has to be--she could walk up to whomever gave it to her and say "I drank some of this garbage...tasted pretty good but it didn't DO squat. You might want to rethink it a little."
She uncorked the cat vial and took a tiny sip...and felt her knees give way as she swallowed.
Oh, GUHAA! It tasted HORRIBLE. Like pure alcohol, mixed with pine-sol and cat-breath. Mary didn't--quite--gag, but she put the vial away and hoped she didn't get sick to her stomach. She already felt a tiny tingle down there, anyway.
She stood up and went to take a shower. Mary worked as a receptionist at a large--VERY large telecomunications company, and she'd been told, more than once, that if she showed up late one more time, she would be given the boot.
And as she went upstairs, she still felt that funny little tingle in her stomach, like pins and needles.