"Hey man," Gabe said, soft and soothing, laying a hand on Spencer's sagging shoulder. "Hey. It's ok." Except in the ways in which, clearly, it wasn't, but if he'd learned anything about the art of alchemancy, it was that there were some things you could brew away, and some that - no matter what insidious close-printed texts promised - you just plain couldn't.
The other thing he'd learned was that it was a lot easier to see clearly after a good night's sleep. And that, hopefully, he could do something about. "Hang tight, I know just what you need." Well, he knew the best place to start, but positive thinking couldn't hurt.
Against one wall was a tall, narrow tower of small drawers; Gabe's rummaging in a couple of compartments made the liquid clinking of potion vials nudging each other. "Three drops of this," he said, pulling out a little bottle whose contents undulated a soothing pearlescent grey. He pried the stopper out, and dropped the sprig of marjoram into it, sealing it back up again afterwards. "In a glass of whatever, just nothing caffinated. Like, half an hour before you sleep. You can go up to six, but any more than that and you should let me know, we'll try something else."