Lyra snorted harder at his words, all wet and winey and awful but the hilarious kind of awful, despite burning and total lack of dignity. "Oh my god," she managed eventually, a little croaky at the back of her throat. "Add star anise, they said, it'll make your wine pop, they said. Yeah, pop out my fucking nose. Freaking," she added, as she looked up when Jocelyn leaned over the kitchen bench to check on her. "My freaking nose."
"Are you quite alright?" Jocelyn asked, looking at the pair of them on the floor with an expression that was trying to overlay her expectations of sainthood with a man sitting on her kitchen floor. The overlay was absolutely not working, and she focused on her granddaughter instead.
"Gissa minute and I'll put the chicken on," Lyra said, giving Jocelyn a thumbs up sign, and Jocelyn said 'hm' and shook her head, but in the way she said 'hm' and shook her head when Rosario and Lyra were up to something silly. At least, to Lyra's current and highly optimistic eyes, that's what it seemed like.
She looked over at Patrick. "Does it still count as winning if I lost some out my nose?"