Hawkins felt that things were a little stagnant in this current moment of his life. He later found himself in the infirmary of the ship sifting through shelves of medicine bottles. As Hawkins reorganized the last of them, he came across a flask with pink tinted liquid. Intrigued, he carefully took it out and read its label.

8 ML per dose.

Perhaps that could help him feel something. Once he was in his quarters, Hawkins measured the required amount with a small cup and mixed it with his tea.

The first five minutes were somewhat normal, but the next five had him flushed and panting. Hawkins trembled as he sat on his bed, the slightest brush setting him off. He figured he could hopefully wait it out.

Meanwhile, you noticed Hawkins hadn’t been out, so you went to check on him. Upon seeing him in such a state, Hawkins was humiliated when explaining his situation. Your eyes fall to the bottle, and you scanned the label.

It seemed he had misread it. It was 3 ML per dose.