The plastic strips were sticking to his thighs, the sweat hiding only in the shade, the heat eating the rest of it.
He drank deeply, longingly, from his pintglass of water, wiped a palm over his cropped hair and said, "I want to go to the moon."
She stared at him for a moment, through messy hair and dark overly big sunglasses. "You know," she said, her big mouth worked itself into a grin. "I could take us there." She nodded, mouth stretching happier, "I went there a few years back."
"How was it?" He was pretty sure their eyes were locked, but he could never quite tell with her.
"See, that's why I love you. You know when I'm telling the truth. I'll need to make a few calls, and we'll need to pick up some more sun screen, but yeah."
"Sweet!" he said, standing and clapping his hands, "Let's do it!"
She stood too. "You'll want to bring a change of pants and underwear. Me too. Probably some wet naps." She tapped her foot. "Look, it gets messy on the moon, okay? it's not like Earth. Sometimes, you shit yourself from what you see, or what happens, or what you end up doing. It's best to be prepared."
"I'll go pack a bag." He said, sounding somewhat nonplussed.
"Not too much, there are weight restrictions!"
"Weight restrictions? Really?"
"Yup. I'm just hoping I'm not to fat, now."
He punched her in the arm, "Hush."
"Hah! I couldn't feel that through my fat!" She laughed, then, "Ow!"
"See? Felt that one!"
"Whatever. You want me to pack you some things, too? We'll just split a back pack."
"Whatever! We're going to the moon!"