George put on a very somber demeanor, as though it really was a terrible tragedy. "I appreciate your forethought," he said seriously, "you wouldn't wanted to have drowned poor Hector," he gestured at the zebra rug whose name seemed to change every week. "If he could talk, I'm sure he'd thank you, too."
He wasn't in any real hurry to let Fred go, but they couldn't really go about their day hugging forever, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and peered around Fred at the pile of Indian food. "Oh, you're my favorite," he said.
George loved a good curry that was face-meltingly hot, and after two weeks of Mediterranean food, this was especially welcome. He promptly stepped around his brother and went straight for the food, peering in containers.
"It was great," he replied, "which of course is not very informative." He straightened to turn and look at Fred as he spoke. "Um, we had picnics by the beach and rode a gondola and toured wine country and got purposefully lost in both Athens and Rome." And a bunch of other stuff he was quite sure his twin didn't want to hear about.