“Wanna see me crush this can with my bare hands?”
The grin on Rockface’s stony mug was stupid, manic, and more than a little annoying.
“No, I don’t want to see you-”
The can erupted with a spray of cola, coating Rockface, and peppering Suave with a thousand caramel-coloured dots.
Suave looked down at his tuxedo, then reached into his breast pocket to pull out a silk handkerchief. He unfolded it with a flick of the wrist, and dabbed casually and carefully at the soda that pocked his cheeks and brow.
Rockface eyed him skeptically, one ridge of stone raised above an eye. Then he turned and headed for the showers.
“And that is why I think wearing a white tuxedo as a costume is stupid.”