Alfred scratched off a letter to Jo, then moved back to were Pablo was lingering. "Can I have one of those?" he asked, nodding towards the cigarettes. He didn't smoke habitually, but he would have done just about anything at the moment to give him something to do besides just killing time and waiting for a response.

"Things were... so much easier before we were courting," he remarked, shaking his head. "I hate England, sometimes."

He trusted Pablo would knew what he meant when he said England; all of this stupid shit they had to put up with, and all the rules they had to follow. The tribe they'd lived with in South America had been a lot less fussed about this sort of thing, so while Alfred was capable of playing along he always did so with the firm belief that it was ridiculous.