That... wasn't what Gabe had been expecting. Not that he'd really been expecting anything, but that hadn't been on the list he hadn't had. Or something. Anyway, he said, "Sure I have some. And about four different subvariants." It had become an area of significant interest during the war, when sleep had been at a premium, and quality sleep even more so. And Gabe had always been fond of twiddling specifications in the name of making a more effective potion.
He leaned against his demonstration bench now and cast a critical eye over Smith. He looked... a little like he'd been buried and dug up again, which Gabe had supposed just to be the by-product of playing in dirt all day, but maybe not. "What's up?" he asked, easy Gabe shorthand for tell me exactly what the problem is, and I'll tailor a potion to it.