"Funny how that works out," she replied wryly, recalling their intricate conversation about peanut butter the previous night. She almost felt bad for leading a drunken Sam along on the trail of fail, but then remembered that he had started it. She didn't feel quite as bad when she remembered that it was, essentially, his doing in the first place. As he touched her lower lip, she jutted her chin out, setting her jaw stubbornly. "No!" she hissed. "I don't pout that much!" Of course, just after she said that, she settled into a very big pout.