It takes her a moment to talk herself into actually doing what she said she would, to unfolding her arms and picking up the mug.

Get your shit together, Espinosa, she orders herself sternly, and smells the coffee before taking a small, cautious sip. There is absolutely no way she's going to spit it out, but that can go unsaid, so she doesn't bother.

After a moment - "It's good. I don't - it's good."