"Mead?" she repeats, eyebrow arched. "Don't tell me that is the source of your magic?"

Beverly hasn't heard of drunken kung fu, but if she had she might have taken this opportunity to make a joke.

"Source of your magic, listen to me," she mutters, pressing her hand to her forehead. "I don't know how you did it, but I can't argue with your results. But how would something like this help medically?"