Northstar Vale Laughter ain't always the best meds

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With their bond reaffirmed, Siqsa watched her slur out some more Inuit, one of the words he caught being ‘Get more’ and the other being ‘lot of drink’. More incredulous at the putting together of it, a chubby snort left the behemoth, a rare sound of a hacked up laugh from him, and he shook his head with “What?” being what flew out next. Whatever this trip of good livin’ she was on, he wanted some. He did feel worry for her for if it was actually okay to do this- it looked almost like the effect of a slow tranquilizer, or some shrooms. But if a juice made this shit happen, musta been some strong shit. 

Well, there goes the worry. 

Nosing over the bowl of juice she offered to him, a curious sniff showed something was in it that made it smell foul. But it was a sweet foul, less dead and rotting and more yum berry. A couple of hesitant laps turned into a couple of heavier ones before he pulled himself back. He didn’t wanna drink up all the good shit, because oh boy. His head started to hurt in a swimmy kinda way, and his stomach bubbled, but somehow expanded. Then after a few minutes, he felt his muscles relax a bit and he felt good.

A careless flop of his head threw his half shut garnets at the hazels browns of his sister’s. “Yo- this is some good shit, Lir- we gotta share this with fuckin- what? Everybody, and shit.”

He liked this.