The suggestion made him glance morosely at the glass bottle of ketchup on the table, which just stared back at him, inanimate and mocking in its metal condiment rack. He deliberated on the decision for longer than was truly necessary, until he finally plucked it up and sniffed reluctantly at the generic black and white labeling. He'd tasted ketchup before, but when he had it was usually from those little foil packets that he enjoyed so much and this simply wasn't the same. He twisted the cap off the bottle and with little care to table manners in public places, licked the aluminum top with one quick stroke from his tongue.
His face contorted unpleasantly, as if he'd just sucked too long on a lemon and he smacked his lips like a toddler might their puréed vegetables. Definitely not the same as the foil packet ketchup. The bottle was placed back on the table with a clatter and swiftly slid, cap and all, toward the metal rack.
“Think I'll pass,” he grunted, still sliding his tongue around his teeth to rid of the offensive taste. It was a distraction, at least.