He never wants to have this Bitter Drink again, but vocalizing that detail requires far more effort than he's willing to expend. Instead, Neil watches Alex administer the medicine, one syringe at a time, his eyelids flutter tiredly. Exhaustion progressively takes its toll, and by the time he registers the command, Neil's dozed off for a good ten seconds.

His gaze falls on the hand, comprehension working through the drugs and the growing fever. After a beat, his mouth slowly works to gather liquid. It takes a minute, but Neil manages to spit as requested.

Or more dribble onto the hand. Same difference.