Perhaps not, but your brain isn't present to say so.

The voice booms out again, and you're practically pushed forwards. An older woman gestures for you to head to an open associate, and you stiffly make your way into the seat. Before you is a man so stony faced you'd think he was carved from the marble walls themselves. It takes you a second to register the fact that he's speaking to you.

"Kid? What's your name? You in there?" he growls out, his eyes impatient.

"Ah." The sound leaks out with the air from your deflated lungs, and your feel your cheeks coloring from embarrassment. Your name? You're certain you have one, it's not like you could have gotten this far without it. Unfortunately that certainty isn't helping you recall any faster.

His brow twitches downwards. "I don't got the time for you to sit and gape at me, boy. There's a line of people waiting, I'm sure you know. People a lot more ready for hero-work than you."

Somehow that dreaded voice of condescension, the same that followed you around and all but drove you out of your own town, manages to snap you out of your stupor. "I'm ready!" you squeak out. "I mean, I'm ready!" you repeat in as low as a voice you can convincingly manage. "I'm going to become an adventurer! I mean, I'm here to become an adventurer, that is, if I can, but-"

The man sighs and leans back in his chair, which echoes his exhaustion in a creak of its own. "One of those types, huh? Stand up, boy. Let me take a look at you."

As someone who has always had to assure others that you're "stronger than you look," showing off your physique is practically a nightmare scenario for you. Nevertheless, he hasn't kicked out yet, so you hurry to stand up. You square your shoulders and puff your chest out, fighting the urge to stand up on your toes. The guildman rolls his eyes at your theatrics. "Relax, quit standing like someone sheathed a sword in your arse. Turn around for me."

Confused, you turn away and face the anxious and frustrated gazes of those waiting on you. Your face turns a deeper pink, and you're grateful when he tells you to turn around again. "Alright, I think you'll do fine," he says, nodding slowly.

"Wait, really?" you gasp. "I can actually join the guild?"

"Sure, sure," he says, his eyes still trained on your chest and shoulders. "There's all sorts of jobs to do, after all. Of course, we can't have someone as timid as you out fighting monsters. Go ahead and ask for Svier, our alchemist. Tell him you need some 'liquid courage,' and he'll fix you up."

"Y-yessir!" you exclaim. "Thank you sir! I won't disappoint, I promise."

"Oh, I'm sure," he mutters, his gaze lowering to your hips. "In fact, I'm quite looking forward to it."

Cheered by his words, you leave the recruitment wing and seek out another associate. A cheerful woman stops you and asks if you're lost, to which you stammer that you're a new guild member and that you're looking for the alchemist. She apologizes and directs you to his "laboratory."

Svier, as it turns out, is a wavy-haired half-elf, and one whose attention is difficult to tear from his bubbling alembic. "My hours are published all over this hall, lad. You can purchase or requisition most anything you need at the depot, including potions. Come by another day if you need anything custom brewed."

"I'm, uh, not here to buy a potion, sir," you say. "The man in the recruitment office sent me here, said I needed some some 'liquid courage,' or something like that."

The tall man straightens and turns around, clear green eyes mirthful as they met yours. "Sounds to me like you're asking for a potion."

You stare at him, feeling a little stupid. "Oh. Right. Um, so I should come back another time? Another day, I mean?"

Svier laughs. "No, no. If Morri says you need it, I won't keep you waiting." Those green eyes flick over your gear and his expression turns thoughtful. "I suppose it would do you some good. Very well, go ahead and take off your armor and garments."

You pale slightly. "I-it's just a potion, isn't it? The man - Morri - he didn't tell me anything about this..."

"People have all kinds of reactions to potions, even safe ones. Wouldn't want to wash vomit out of that leather, would you?"

No, you wouldn't. You don't want to strip either, but picking between the two is easy. You timidly remove your gear and clothes, down to your undergarments.

Svier stoops over a trunk for a moment, muttering as he rummages through it. You shiver despite the fire crackling in the lab's furnace, fidgeting as you wait for him to procure the potion. "So, what exactly is liquid courage anyways?" you ask, trying to dispel the awkward air.

"Good question," Svier replies. "Like most magic and potions, the effect varies with the user. I'll be blunt, it'll change your personality somewhat, make you more comfortable with yourself and bolder. Could change your body too, to match. Nothing too **** though; I'm not giving away anything that would get my license revoked. Ah, there it is." He stands up, pushing his hair out his eyes with one hand, a golden vial in the other. "Dosage for one, to be drunk 'deliberately.' Damn witches and their useless instructions."

You perk up. "You didn't make this?"

Svier shakes his head. "No, I just purchase it when I can. This brew is exotic, and the covens don't share their secrets lightly. I'd say drink it slowly, at least, I think that's what they meant. 'Deliberately,' what trash."

He hands you the potion, and you eye it with suspicion. After his answers, you're a little less keen on this than you had been. "I do want to be braver, but using a magic potion to change me, it's, well..."

Svier shrugs. "Nobody's making you drink it; I doubt it'd have much effect if they did. But if Morri says you need it, you need it."

Well, then there's not much of a decision to make then, is there?