Owen is sitting sprawled on a bench, lounging like it’s August. “I’m from Boston,” he says. “It gets way colder up there. This is nothing.” Then he adds: “I’m applying for a job. Some jobs you don’t need a suit and tie.” A job, he seemed to imply, with some kind of men-in-shorts organisation.
We have to wear shorts,” says Henry. “It’s cool,” says Gil.
