Clary's hand shot out and seized the nearly empty glass from Leandre's grasp, jolting him. "You are not drinking this!" She commanded and put the glass aside. She leapt from her seat and dashed towards the waiter she had tasked with clearing the table. "Did you dispose of the order as I asked you to?" She demanded, her gaze drilling into his.
"Forgive me, madam," The waiter pleaded, his voice dripping with regret. He had let his attention slip while dealing with that boorish customer and then left to deal with the other customer. "Rest assured. I will clean it up immediately."
"I clearly informed you to clean the table before I left." Clary's tone raised an octave at the hapless waiter. What is the use of doing now? She watched him swallow the water laced with the medicine she had put by her own hand.