A biological way that they'd already established as irrelevant for a cyborg's needs. Motoko considered the hot drink without touching it, examining her options as intently as one might when staring at a bear trap, then took up the drink smoothly in one hand and drank.

The taste spread smoothly over her tongue, chocolate and mint tea, bitter somehow— a mixed sensation, and even as the chemical composition analysis scrolled across her vision Motoko jerked back and looked at the drink as if it'd delivered an electric shock.