He sat there shoveling his fry-up into his gob, stinking of cheap hotel shower gel. They must have worked up quite an appetite this afternoon. He still had that triumphant sparkle in his eyes.
She sat on the far side of the table from him, as far away as she could physically get. Her body was angled sideways, her hand wrapped around an almost-empty mug of tepid tea. She watched with disgust as he cut up the sausages and rashers, wiping a piece of bread in the congealing grease before loading it all up on a fork. Egg yolk dribbled down his chin as he chewed happily, his cheeks bulging.