I placed the bottle on the table, and then drank the contents of my glass in one long, slow gulp.
As I put the glass down, she picked up the bottle and rotated it in her hands.
"I don't understand how you humans drink poison for pleasure."
"It's not poison. Not really. Alcohol makes things just feel... Better. Loosens the inhibitions, lowers pain..."
She stared at the bottle for a moment, considering my words.
"And the cyanide is, what do you call it, a chaser?"
"What?" I asked, slurring, as I fell over to the floor.
"That good?" She asked.
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