Martin woke that morning to the soft sound of 'Have yourself a merry little Christmas' played on the gramophone. It was nice.
"Merry Christmas Eve, Crieff. Up for a cigarette; and not a cheap one," Douglas greeted.
"Yes, thank you; merry Christmas Eve," Martin smiled.
They walked down the corridor together – it was an odd sight to see Martin walking, and even running, normally – to smoke. It was becoming a bit of a habit; but who were they hurting?
"Chesterfield?" Douglas offered, holding the packet towards Martin.
"Oh! Those are good…" Martin smiled, "Are you sure you want to give one away?"
"Crieff, it's fine; just take one," Douglas shrugged.
"You haven't put rat poison in one, have you?" Martin joked.
"Just take one before I change my mind…" Douglas sighed in feigned annoyance.
Martin took his advice, lighting it with his slightly shaking hands and taking a long drag; "That… is rather nice…"
"Glad you think so."
"No… Oh! That is perfect…" Martin sighed, taking another drag.
"Much better than the usual cheap stuff," Douglas agreed, drawing on his own with practised ease.
Karl and Dirk came running up to them. "Crieff, Richardson; rumour is, everyone wants a team up of you two for an encore tomorrow. Choose wisely!" Karl informed before running off again to get his Ukulele.
"He's a bit wound up, isn't he?" Douglas smirked.
"Probably trying to get everything ready; you know Karl," Martin shrugged, "What do you think about the double act idea?"
"I quite like it. I wanted to sing 'Our sergeant major' –"
"Wait. A George Formby song?" Martin smirked.
"I just want to have an excuse to offend Birling in ward B," Douglas defended.
"Of course," Martin smirked, "Shall we?" he said, pointing to the door.