"I'll add it to the employee handbook once we've made it back then." He's grinning, easy and pleased as punch as she reels herself in against him. Running his hand lazily up from her knee, he adds: "Come to think of it, I wouldn't say no to modifying the dress code either."

And it's all silliness, but daft in the same vein that Morocco or Vienna or San Salvador had been. Same low light, only here it's not because the shades of the lamps are all dirty or the fluorescent light in the washroom's gone out. The same murmur of strangers a few walls away, the taste of beer still on his tongue, the gritty feeling to his own skin from a day spent in the sun.

Could be worse.