Yes.

To hell with it. Your nerves are shot with all the trauma of the past few weeks, and you're seeing threats where none are present. Picking the glass up with your mechanical hand, you raise it to your lips and down the whole thing over about seven seconds. It's not good stuff, and leaves you in a coughing fit. A few people glance over at you, but you glare daggers at them and get them to look away.

Getting the attention of the bartender again with a wave, he comes over with a questioning expression on his face. You hold up a finger, about to ask him something, before it slips from your mind.

Strange.

Now it's your turn to look puzzled. You stare at him in confusion for two or three seconds.

Then you black out.