“I vote for afterwards,” Sindee says, discarding her napkin on the table and pushing her chair back to stand. She is raring to go. The juggernaut has lost its brakes. She is already moving, her eyes all hungry for Cas, the grin broad.
“Bring your camera,” she tells me as she passes. I thought when this time came she might want some privacy, such were her feelings for this man compared to others on this tour. Still, why have pictures of your victorious journey to the final, and then not have ones of you holding the trophy? Cas puts his hand out for her and she takes it. There isn’t a single trace of guilt on his face.
I don’t take long. The camera is in ‘our’ room – that is, the one assigned to us that night of the feast and food fight. I remove my boots but make few other preparations.
