smallhobbit

Lucas and Adam were slumped on the sofa, watching an old James Bond film.

“What a glamorous life spies have,” Adam said.

“Always an opportunity to wear a tuxedo.” Lucas agreed. 

“Which reminds me, you did get the worst of the grot out of your overalls, didn’t you?”

Lucas grunted, not wishing to dwell on his latest plumbing role.

“And visiting so many fascinating places,” Adam continued.

“May I remind you, you went to Swindon last week,” Lucas said.  “Not to mention eating haute cuisine all the time.”

“There was nothing wrong with my toad-in-the-hole!” Adam complained.  “All meals should be accompanied by champagne, or a vodka martini, shaken not stirred.”

They raised their glasses, which held a bottle of beer they’d split between them, there being nothing else in the cupboard.

“And you can tell the villain because he’s clearly a megalomaniac, preferably with a fluffy white cat,” Adam added.

“Naturally.  I wouldn’t mind driving an Aston Martin,” Lucas said.

“Harry would only complain the budget didn’t stretch that far,” Adam reasoned.  “Then there’s the glamorous girls at every turn.”

“Not needed,” Lucas said, turning to Adam and kissing him.  “Maybe I’m not in the wrong job after all!”