"So let me show you how it all works, all the functions" said Alain excitedly, digging out the 'phone he'd decided to give to Mal.

"What, here? Now?"

"Yeah, of course here! Of course now!"

"But -" Mal pointed towards the jug of beer and the unsteady table. "What if we spill beer on it? Then it'll be fucked!" He wasn't really that concerned about ruining the 'phone, but it was the only excuse he could think of without offending Alain by revealing the depth of his disinterest.

"It'll never happen" said Alain confidently, dismissing Mal's proclaimed concerns. "I don't spill drinks. I'm debonair. I'm suave. I'm fucking James Bond - only with style."

"You don't even know what those words mean!" said Mal with the kind of scorn that a lifetime of friendship had earned him the right to use.

"Shut up you, and look at the 'phone" Alain replied. He felt like he was doing his friend a service, and it made him feel good. He liked helping people out, especially when it meant he could help himself: everybody came out a winner!

Nonetheless, even Alain could not remain ignorant of the fact that Mal simply wasn't joing into the spirit of the thing. "It's the beer!" complained Mal, pouring himself another glass. "I can't concentrate on this shit."

"Don't blame the beer" said Alain, almost tut-tutting like a Hollywood school-teacher. "It's just that you're not interested." He broke back into his usual manner: "Seriously, man, it's the 21st century! It's the fucking wireless age! You've got to catch up with the technology!"

"You can't even figure out a computer!" said Mal, catching Alain out again.

"Fuck computers, I'm talking about this. Communication." He held up the 'phone forcefully. "This is communication" he said, waving his hand with agitation between himself and Mal. "This is communication. Me talking to you. Get with the times!"

"But - you call me all the time on the 'phone I've got now. How's that thing gonna make a difference?"

Alain looked, almost hurt, at the 'phone he was holding. Sure, he couldn't wait to see the back of it, but it'd served him well and he didn't like to hear it labelled so dismissively as a mere 'thing'. "It just will, that's all" he said sulkily.

Mal heard the tone in his friend's voice. He scratched at the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses (he'd had trouble with his contacts this morning). "Fine, then" he said wearily, holding out his hand. "Give me a look at it."