Holly Winslow: "..."
She lifted the cup to his mouth, let him take a sip, and smugly tilted her chin up. "Still sweet?"
Mortimer Quincy's expression remained unchanged. After swallowing, he said, "Sweet. Just seeing you makes everything sweet."
"And you taste even sweeter."
Holly Winslow: "..."
'I'm not a bottle of SunnyD.'
She vowed to get even. Setting down the cup, she said, "How about eating shit? Is that sweet?"
Mortimer Quincy: "..."
'Is she cussing me out, or herself?'
He couldn't help but laugh. He raised a hand to rub the top of her head, his voice full of affection. "If it has to do with you, it's sweet."
Holly Winslow, realizing she'd just insulted herself: "..."
She shivered in mock disgust and scooted a little farther away from him. "You're just a smooth-talker. It's a good thing you're getting out of here tomorrow. I don't think I could stand a few more days of this."
