He points out, holding both in his hands.
"It doesn't really matter, really, where it lands."
"You choose," he smiles, in command.
"I would take bland."
"Bland?" he looks at me, one eyebrow raised high.
"Yeah," I step to the fridge, no lie.
I take it out, no need to stand by.
"If I want to mix it, I could try.
And bland...
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