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“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Beck ignores him. “So he takes a drink.”

“And?”

“And immediately spits it back into the cup.”

“I did not spit it out.”

Beck looks at him. “You absolutely spit it out.”

“I put the fucking cup down.”

“You made a noise.”

Roman goes very still.

I lean toward Beck. “What kind of noise?”

He takes one look at Roman’s face. “I don't remember.”

Roman points at him. “If you imitate me, I swear to fucking God⁠—”

Beck makes a strangled, high-pitched sound. “Hnnngh!”

I freeze.

Roman's face goes blank. “That is not the fucking noise I made!”

Beck does it again, louder. “HNNNGH!”

I lose it, laughing so hard I have to set my mug down.

“You made that noise?” I ask when I get myself under control.

“No.”

“He did.”

“The coffee was fucking boiling.”

“The woman told you it was hot!”

“It was hotter than normal!”

“HNNNGH,” Beck says.

Roman lunges for him.

Beck dodges him immediately, still laughing. “And then his lips started swelling.”

I gasp. “No.”

“Yes.”

“They did not swell.”

“Roman, you looked like you'd had bad lip filler.”