[action]
[ if the blood tastes strange because of the alcohol, Kamui doesn't notice right away. it's so different from the packets -- from the sick and dying, from every other way he's survived over more than three years -- that he can't think of anything else.
two swallows, three, four. he begins to taste the heavy sweetness, completely unfamiliar to him. and then the room feels like it's spinning, and he pulls away, leaning heavily against the wall as he closes his eyes. he has enough presence of mind to close his hand tight over the cut in Fuuma's wrist to try and stop the bleeding. ]