He scoffed and rolled his eyes underneath their lids while he turned. He’d raced on ahead leaving clothes in his wake (a shirt he hated and a pair of dirty longs in her face she’d told him twice now she didn’t appreciate).
He heard her trousers hit the grass and the dry rocks. And then her belt. And blouse. And the scuffling he could only guess was her folding everything neatly on top of her shoes.
He’d kicked his off halfway down the hill and he stood knee deep bothered none. She’d probably seen him in his gitch a dozen times and less than that half a dozen more. But he’d be the gentleman and let her and her knobbly little knees the same colour as paper preserve their modesty.
“It’s only because it’s so unmercifully hot toda-You can sit down now. Or should I tie bait to your pecker and have you catch us some dinner along with those flies?”
He frowned and fell backwards to a shriek. And when he surfaced a very wet, very unimpressed Una greeted him with one of her own plus a mouthful of water she pushed through the gap in her teeth.