It's a classic for a reason.

"I still vote truth or dare," you tell him, laughing. "Considering you didn't even know I notoriously favor cold catsup, maybe we need to learn more about each other," you laugh.

"Toosh," Scott says amicably, and with the bitchy mood he's been in all day, you're really glad Dex wasn't here to witness that.

"I think it's pronounced too-SHAY?" you say, and he grins.

"Thanks. My bad. I had a feeling Dad was saying it wrong. He never studied Spanish or any of that."

"Truth or dare?" you ask instead of reflecting more deeply on how you are way too close to Quebec for people to not know the difference between French and Spanish.

"Truth, I guess?" Scott says. "Since, I didn't share a cradle with you like certain people. Apparently I have some catching up to do."

You decide it's better to sidestep the vaguely passive-aggressive-feeling thing about you and Dex sharing a cradle. "Well," you say, steepling your fingers and cackling evilly, "what should I ask? I'm on my third drink in thirty minutes, so I have the guts to ask something really personal now!"

"Well, now you're kind of scaring me," Scott says in a joking tone.

"No, I have my question," you say, holding your glass aloft. "No legacy so rich as honesty!"

"Who said that?" he says, laughing. "Jay-Z?"

"Close," you say. "Shakespeare."

"Oh, yeah," he agrees. "Definitely almost had it." Scott flashes you a friendly, self-deprecating grin that makes you giggle.