"Which means", says Carl, giggling like a naughty twelve year old, "that your word is law."
And now I am the one losing his humour, and I just manage to keep a tight rein on my tone of voice. "What it really means is that you can both expect to be pampered and spoiled rotten by me for the time we are together there."
"and when the honeymoon is over?" says Francois.
"We will each be expected to pull our weight", says Carl, still smiling.
"It'll be an opportunity for us to learn how to live together in a different environment."
"But", says Francois, "That will be your environment, and how can we all feel equal?"
"Unless", says Carl, "Unless, I buy us all a big lovely house where we can all feel equal."
"Except for one little problem", say I. "Since it's your money, it will be your house. Not ours."
"Details, details." Then he picks up the check for the meal, without consulting any of us, and approaches the young woman who has been serving us...
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