The Proposal

Two sparkling dandelions

"Have you looked through the interview questions?"

"Not yet. What's there?"

"Well, I think I can handle it. But you, Gulf, will have to work hard not to get into a puddle in front of that Khun Nanchai."

They're flying first class, and Gulf, to Mew's endless laughter, fidgets and turns red up to his earlobes.

"It's okay. I can handle it too. Is that clear to you?" abruptly turns away, pretending to look for the flight attendant delivering snacks and drinks around.

"It couldn't be clearer."

Mew could have used some kind of barb, but why waste all the fuse at the start?

Meanwhile, he decides to run through the questions again. Obviously, having reached those that suggest a really very close relationship, barely restraining laughter, he is seriously interested in:

"Do you have any moles on your body? Well, except for the neck?"

"Why asking?"

"There is a question here: Are there tattoos, scars or moles on your partner's body?"

"No.I haven't."

"No?"

"It doesn't matter," Gulf adds, which Mew doesn't miss to take advantage of.

"Mm… Right or left?"

"What?"

"On the right or on the left?"

"What is 'on the right or on the left'?"

"Well," Mew licks her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, "can't you guess?"

Gulf turns sharply to him, but, faced with the amusement in the eyes of his assistant, turns away again, speaking through his teeth:

"Fuck you."

"Wow," Mew whistles, "where did you learn such exquisite phrases? At dinners in the company of modern graphomaniacs?"

"Don't worry. You're not going to be one of them anyway! Even if I print a hundred thousand copies of your manuscript!"

"Don't swear, darling, don't swear."

Gulf is doing something, but Mew, pleased with his joke, also turns away to the porthole.

Upon arrival, Gulf is waiting for a few surprises: not only will they have to get to their destination by local airlines, where, in general, there is no concept of "first class", but they will also have to stay at a local hostel for a day, proudly called a three-star hotel, which automatically means: they will immediately arrive just to celebrate the New Year.

"I have never understood the desire of your circle to pass off philistinism as luxury."

"Your circle?" Mew asks with a smile, taking his suitcase out of the taxi.

"Yes. Well, those who read price tags in stores," Gulf explains with haughtily pursed lips.

"Mhm. That's what you're talking about," Mew chuckles inwardly.

Wait, wait, let's see what you'll sing tomorrow.

"Am I right?"

Turning onto the tiled path leading to the hotel door, Mew throws over his shoulder:

"Don't forget your suitcase."

"You could have helped. I'm still your boss, in case you've forgotten. And even if — even if — you get the position of my deputy, — I will still remain one. And believe me," Gulf catches up with him, carrying a tall suitcase behind him, "on the day of our divorce, I will have a hundred times more fun than your childish revenge."