Vic, look at me. You think I don't like spicy? (spicy is the name of her game — and all junk food, junk food's its own flavour.

taking his drink, watching him sip at her own, she smirks around the rim of the glass and tries a mouthful. true to his word, it most definitely does have a kick to it and sombra raises a thin eyebrow at it. most of these drinks, she feels with some amount of giddiness, are going to be delicious. and she can't even tell anyone back home about them.

a swap of their drinks yet again, fingers alighting on the cup of viscous mucous (and that's very likely what it is, not that she's concerned so long as it does its job and she doesn't know about it)...)

Y'know, I think you're right on that one. I'm ordering yours next. This one's coating my throat like Nyquil.