"I could go for some antimatter," is Michael's only comment on the matter.

He moves to a shelf a few feet away, on the other side of the bar, to consult the tea canisters neatly lined up there. They aren't all always full, but it's quick work to check which ones are. "We've got chamomile, coconut, bluescythe, and candleflower." From his tone, it's clear that he doesn't know exactly what the latter two are. "Anything else, and you'll probably have to go talk to the tea guy."