chortle

Ken interjects in a flash, to chortles around the table.

“OK, I think I can,” he relents, before chortling and adding: “I seriously don’t want to.”

A large crowd, boisterously enjoying a dip whilst chitchatting and chortling, or a quiet night at home with nothing but your dip and a ton of chips and crudite.

I’d scoff and chortle and avoid it, thinking that water was superfluous, extraneous, not something that would “make or break” whatever it was I was cooking.

“Gotta love it when rich people move and leave all sorts of good stuff behind,” someone else chortled.