Queuing

Kings Cross. Two posh boys, brothers, and the friend of the younger one, are ahead of me. Striking similarity between the two of them despite the obvious difference in age, older brother is wearing a not terribly good suit but has abandoned his tie by this time, younger brother has droopy jeans and a metalhead teeshirt. They talk in their incredibly deep voices. Voices deeper than seems natural. Talking out of the back of their throats, without moving their lips. Amazingly it is apparent that the two brothers are pleased to see one another, despite their lack of facial movement.

Eventually it is the older brother's turn at the window. The two friends go over to the window and throw themselves on the carpetted floor of the ticket hall, lounginly leaning on one arm. Being this laid back seems highly inappropriate and strange.