Rolling his eyelights, Cash raised his hand, and Twist passed him the mug of hot maple syrup.
“Burnt sugar!”
Slim, smiling, held up a hand for his caramel.
“Actual fire!”
Edge, sighing, snatched the sriracha from his hand. “It’s not that hot, you—“
“Bee vomit!”
Rus choked. “what?!?”
Twist passed him the honey. “‘S bee vomit, darlin’.”
“It—it is not.” He looked at the others for confirmation. Slim looked away, and Cash smirked, amused.
Rus covered his earholes. “you guys aren’t ruining this for me. i refuse.”
Twist hung an arm around his shoulders, asking, “Aw, darlin’. Ain’t anyone ever told ya ‘bout the birds an’ the bees?” Edge stood up. “Where’re ya goin’, darlin’?”
“If we’re going to listen to you try to give the Talk, I need significantly more vodka in this.”
“There’s no vodka in—“
“That’s my point. Don’t worry,” he said, addressing the others, “I’ll bring the bottle.”
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