"Same."
"We need to talk!," she said.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He looked petrified as if she had discovered his secret relationship with the man who had made going into R-rated movies so easy for him (just the cost of showing his behind and letting those fingers graze on his two hills and this payment deferred until after a movie or movies were finished).
"Nothing she said. She smiled her haughty smile and spoke in her typical phlegmatic tone. "I'm wondering about taking another trip abroad."
"With or without me?"
"Hmm…I love your subtlety. Maybe with you if you care to be a vagabond and don't get in the way of me painting."
"What is a vagabond?"
"No Four Star hotels — living in little dumps that look like closets with no air conditioning and a shared shower. Kind of like Boy Scouts, but no camping out in the forest and bad ventilation in the rooms. Hotels for back packers that are worthy of demolition."
"What's demolition?"
"Anyhow, ugly old buildings that if you were to look at them you would puke on sight."