quaint: a bromance in narrative duologue

‘Ben, what is this swill?’

‘Mercutio! Well met, my coz.’

‘I’m not your coz, coz. My mother is no relation of yours, thank the gods.’

‘But could we not be coz’s all the same.’

‘By no gods shall we be coz’s.’

‘Not even by the god of wine.’

‘The god of wine? He has left this place, he is not to be found in these darkened hipster rooms. I wish the same could be said of your beard.’

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