Summer giggled, clutching the bailey’s ice cream to her chest. “Nope! Nope nope nope, you’re cut off and this is mine now!”
“Oh, /fine/,” Summer pouted, and tossed the ice cream back. “You get drunk-er, and I will stay sober. I don’t understand you people, honestly.” She flopped out on the floor.
Tony could only grin at her as the sense of triumph and undeniable smugness came over him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to share.” But then looking at the cup now, he realized there wasn’t enough to go around.
Summer looked at him upsidedown from her position on the floor. “Sweetheart, if I /wanted/ to get drunk, I wouldn’t use alcoholic ice cream to do it with. Finish it. I’m just saying, I don’t want to get drunk. There’s no point to it; I’m just as weird without, and I don’t have to get a hangover.”