“I am not staying in that hostel again.”
“Fine. Pick a campsite,” Mike said. “Wherever you like.”
Stephen squinted at him. “Why are you buttering me up?”
“Can do that, too.”
“Watch it, Romeo, might get ideas you like me.”
“Can I be Mercutio?”
Stephen nearly crashed. “Fuck me, a classical reference you didn’t cock up!”
“Naff off, I watched the film.”
“The poncy one with tights, or the stupid one with guns?”
“Guns. Obviously.”
“Don’t ruin the trip by getting shot on a beach. I’ll have to pack up the tent on my own.”
“Watch it, Romeo,” Mike echoed. “Might get ideas you’re sick of me.”
“Sick of that tent, more like…”