Swamped

Perhaps you can wash it off. You look around quickly - there's supposed to be a fire bucket in every room in public buildings.

You soon spot a bucket in a corner, and it's full. Well, they're intended for emergencies, but as far as you're concerned, this clearly qualifies. You grab the bucket and try to fling its contents towards the boot hanging off Mortimer's shoulder.

You're not the best at throwing, though. You lose your grip and the bucket itself goes flying. It knocks the boot off, but also drenches Mortimer.

"Blech!" he shouts. "The hells is this stuff?"

"Isn't it water?" you ask, puzzled.

"Doesn't feel like water to me. Too thick for that."

And then you realize that there's another bucket in a different corner. But then what's this one... Oh. Wait.

"This is a sailor's guild," you say. "That must be their spittoon."

Mortimer is clearly disgusted.

"Okay, you win. Hospital's going to be the nearest place with a shower. But you're gonna need to keep that freak away from me."

He seems rather calm, considering.

"Er... do you remember what you were just doing?" you ask him.

"I got real mad and you threw a bucket of spit at me." He glances around. "Looks like you tossed a couple of chairs first? Must have really lost my temper."

"I think the strange stuff on your boot had something to do with it."

He glances over at the boot. It's just lying on its side. The ooze is back to transparent.

"Well, I thought it was pretty gross, but I don't know what it is. So maybe it did do something. Oh well, never really liked these boots anyways. We'll figure something out later, right now I really need a shower. Come on, let's take the door, this window's too much trouble."

He seems to have calmed down. You might want to see if you can get any answers out of him on your way out.