He laughs, shifting his stance to stand proudly at the other’s words. “Thank you, thank you, I try my best. But a perfect award for that pun would be the award of friendship.” He suggests, grinning cheesily at his own words.
“Ayahh, we’ve got a smooth talker on our hands!” He crows this loudly, seeming to mull the idea over for a moment before adding as an afterthought, “Yes, okay. Let’s be friends– but, but, but, to seal the deal, you have to drink one cup of tomato juice. Do you think you can handle it? You won’t cry?”
"One cup of tomato juice?” He repeats slowly, because he’s certain that he didn’t hear the sentence right. “One cup of...