“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” his companion replied, his own cup releasing the gentle steam of his drink of choice, a recently-topped off black coffee. “Smells like a funeral home, even from here.”
Had other societies done this? Oddly enough, he could not clearly remember.
"The broad smile returned to her face, and she giggled, a grating, mechanical sound, like a hinge starting to lose its lubrication. “You’re a funny man, Mr. Carlton! Very funny man.”