"Fooking hell, mate! Do you know how much that luggage fooking costs?!" Bram bellowed, snatching it out of the crew member's hand. They were on the deck, heading to his room, but the idiot had already smacked his bag against the railing, "Who the fook raised you? I hope for your sake that my other luggage got there in one fooking condition!" he snapped, ushering the man away from him.
Bram exhaled, moving away from the crowds as it got darker. He lit up a cigarette and glared back at an old lady who glared at him. Did she know who he was? Did any of these idiots know who the fook he was?