That's the look of the poisoner, isn't it? There's nothing he can do. He's already off-center, thanks to the beers he had at the bar with the boys after work. He'll never know what she gave him until that terrible moment of realization, that sudden flood of terror that brings instant sobriety. But that's yet to come. Now he's home, and he's happy.

Wush what, hnny? Oh ya mean this thing'n my hand? I dunno. It came offa somewhere

As it turned out, she wouldn't have to poison him - but we'll get to that in a few page.