"Oh shit, sorry mate, you're screwed." He gave him a conciliatory look as he held up the bottle of firewhiskey. "Need a refill?"
"I would have thought she was bad enough to deal with around... that time of the month. But let me tell you," he smirked a little proudly. "You take her out - wine and dine her and all that stuff. Give her a makeup gift. Something shiny and sparkly, and you might just get to keep your bollocks attached to your body."
He noticed Higgs seemed to be... avoiding looking at him. He glanced across the room and noticed he seemed to be casting a worried glance at Montague. He was about to ask, when he realised what the problem was. "Oh for fuck's sake will you get over it already," he said quietly.
"Monty isn't going to find out because nobody knows," he said in the quietest voice possible. "And if you start acting up then he'll be suspicious, or think we're pissed off at each other again and want us to make up."
Not that he'd really forget Russia - probably never - but he wasn't going to pussyfoot around the fucking topic, not if Higgs was going to carry on about it.