Whatever Bob's talking about, he's irritating enough not to clarify. Not for any reason other than he's already distracted by the idea of having a drink. The stall doesn't have all that much in the way of choice, but he's already rubbing his hands together as though he's looking forward to it.

"Ooooh, yeah, that one looks good. I'll have one of them. What about you, mate?"

His attention flips back from beverage to the man standing next to him, gaze expectant and incredibly naive for what's about to happen in unison.