He shook it. His hand was warm from the mug, and he held hers exactly one second longer than a handshake required, and then let go first, which she noticed.
"What's the first event?" she said.
He looked down at his cocoa. He looked at hers. A slow, terrible, delighted smile spread across his face, and for a moment he did not look like a tax attorney at all.
"First one to finish," he said, "wins."
"It's boiling."
"Then I suppose you'd better be brave."
She was brave. She was much too brave. She drank half the mug in three long swallows and burned her tongue so badly that she could not taste anything properly until Tuesday, and she came up for air with whipped cream on her upper lip and tears standing in her eyes and slammed the empty mug down on the white linen three full seconds before Graham, who had also burned his tongue and was making a small, dignified noise of pain like a teakettle.
"Ha!" said Gina, and then, "Ow," and then, "Ha!" again.