The coldness of the North Sea didn’t really bother us. Since we spent most of our lives at altitudes higher than Everest, a little seawater was nothing. However, we had to flop on the sand, and sand gets everywhere, especially on wet clothing.
“Joaquim, if it were not for your . . . affliction, I would slap you, right now.”
“What’d I do?”
I rolled over and punched Jack hard in the shoulder, digging a knuckle in.
“Ow! What the fuck?”
“Just shut up, Jack. You’re normally a pain in the ass, but you’re even moreso, now, so just shut up.”
“Hey, I—”
“Shut up, Jack!” We all said simultaneously.
For a wonder, Jack shut up, though he did grumble under his breath.
“I’m hungry,” Nat said.
“Me, too.” I said.
“And I,” Anna Maria added in.
“Now can I—” Jack began.
“No!” We all said.
We stood up and used whirlwinds to blow the sand off and dry ourselves out, though I could swear I still had sand in my shorts and socks.
“Anyone know where to eat at this time of night?”
Having never been to Europe for more than a few stops on the way to solve a crisis, I shrugged.
Jack held up a hand.
“Oh, God,” Nat said. “Fine, Jack. Where?”
He retracted fingers on his upraised hand until only one finger remained.