"Maybe we should have a designated day," John suggested, his own grin a bit more crooked: "'Drive Your Boyfriend Crazy With Nudity Tuesday'." Heating up the frypan, he seared the chopped salami, then set it aside to sauté some garlic. The baby tomatoes he'd already partly roasted got tossed in as well, then some dry white wine, which generally added to the sizzle and the aromas wafting through the kitchen. And all without doing more than the odd wave of his hand or blink of his eye, when it came to varying the heat.

"Still, I understand if you feel outclassed. The Allerdyces are Scottish if you got back far enough, so there's a cultural history to bearing out backsides." By all rights he should have gotten a fucking kilt.