Before bringing him some NyQuil, I asked him if he wanted a drink for after to get that taste from his mouth.
"No, I'm good."
I guess he's being a man, or something. I bring him the medicine.
"An eighth of a cup?! That's a lot!"
"It's two tablespoons."
Sir takes his time with the medicine.
"Ugh!" He shakes his head, loosely moaning like a cartoon, sounding like an exhalating balloon.
"Use your tongue! Get every last drop out of there!" I tell him.
"I'm working on it, I'm working on it!"
"Should I have brought you a chaser?" I say, teasing him.
"I should make out with you right now, just for that!"