"Yeah. . ." George grimaced, taking a deep swig of the bottle. Their mum had actually gotten pretty close to that, after the close call when they were fetching Harry, when Hagrid died instead. It'd been uncomfortable. Not that George didn't love the stuffing out of his mum - but he and Fred had never exactly been the sort who invited stifling mothering. They'd been an independent unit from fairly early on. He never knew what to do with Molly's rare fits of. . . well, mollycoddling. Mostly that went to Ron or Ginny, now that Percy was gone.
"Who'd want to suck it, if it was?" George brightened a little. "Maybe we could make it so it MADE you fart, though. Weasley Winds."
"So what ARE you saying, then?" George swapped the topic back. They were, most likely, all but impossible to follow for anyone else. But they always understood one another.