Friendship is like pissing yourself
It was at that moment that it dawned on Langdale how hungry he was. Despite his best intentions, over the previous days and weeks he’d been rather neglectful with his food intake. Lack of appetite, general misery and intentionally absorbing himself so completely in his work as a means of distraction meant that he was more or less subsisting on a diet of coffee, cigarettes and booze. He’d gone out to dinner with Kitty, and that was the last proper meal he could remember having. The smell of the pub food was getting to him. He pushed his empty glass away.
“Actually, now you mention it, I’m starving right now,” he said in an almost surprised tone. “D’you wanna get a table, order some fish ‘n chips or something? My round.”
"Sure, man."
That wasn't exactly what he'd been going for - a trustful conversation which would, at some point, inevitably result in Langdale confiding his most deep-rooted fears to him, maybe a bit of crying, then hugs - but he figured something to eat would do as well for now. And he could always eat, anyway. Especially junk food.
So he hopped off his stool, drained his glass with a few swigs, and slammed it back onto the counter with just that little bit too much of enthusiasm that made for his undeniable charm.
"Taking that as a no, by the way." He gestured for him to go ahead. He'd get to the confiding part later. Some time.
