If he wasn't feeling smug before, that's enough to do it. Charlie settles in the shadow of the wall, all easy angles and a gratuitous self-satisfied grin.

And the meat in his fingers is greasy, but pairs wells with the bread. They're working a job, as close to running their own gig as they've been in-- well, a year come to think of it. Out of the sun with a proper sort of lunch, the bustle of people and the possibility of something exciting around the corner... Well, sure. Hard to believe, but hard not to be a little satisfied with it all too.

"I know," he says. "I haven't tasted bread this good in ages either."