If I were better at my job, he’d be dead by now. The plot was perfect. The tea was poisoned, and the dose was calculated for his size. If he’d had the whole cup, he’d be dead.
I should have known how big a klutz I was dealing with. I didn’t do my homework on this one. I got lazy.
He only drank half a cup, then dropped it, and knocked the pot off attempting to catch the falling cup.
Later, I can only assume he had some stomach troubles, but not as much as I intended.
And he lived.