"Sy--syph--synTHETIC!" Lance finally shouted, falling over onto the carpeting. "Hah! Your turn. Told you I could say it." The smug look on his face was met by Joey's own sloshed grin, as he brandished the tequila around with vigour. "Your turn," Lance said again. "Anesthesia," he said slowly, pronouncing each syllable and poking Joey in the arm. "Say it!" "I don't wanna," Joey mumbled, lurching forward towards Lance's face and happily connecting with his lips.
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