He pulls it away, playfully, before eventually handing it over.
Another flight attendant appears with two more glasses of champagne – presumably one for me, rather than two for Lockie.
‘Here’s to a long, fun, relaxing flight,’ he says, dimples forming in his cheeks because he’s clearly taking the piss.
I don’t rise to it, I just clink glasses with him.
The engine hums beneath us, that low, constant vibration that means you just can’t quite forget that you’re in a metal box drifting through the sky.
‘You couldn’t make this up,’ I say, mostly to myself.
Lockie doesn’t miss a beat.
‘I could make it up,’ he says proudly.
‘And I suppose you’re proud of that,’ I reply.
‘Well… yeah. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Erm, it’s unethical, for one thing. Pitching something as reality TV, all the while it’s just you coming up with storylines.’
‘You do the same job as me, I’m just more open about it,’ he replies.
‘I don’t script them!’
‘You do in a way,’ he replies. ‘You put the right people in the right place – or the wrong people in the wrong place – to make drama. You mix the chemicals to create a reaction and then watch things blow up. That’s the same.’
‘That’s not the same,’ I clap back. ‘I’m not feeding them lines.’
‘No,’ he says, ‘but you’re feeding them the ingredients for them.’
‘We’re never going to agree on this,’ I point out. ‘Or anything.’
‘I think we’re both doing the same job, we want the same results, we’re working on the same show,’ he reminds me. ‘We’d do well to get on the same page.’
‘Of the same script?’ I reply. ‘Never.’
He leans back in his seat, turning his head so he’s looking at me.
‘What would you have done without me this season?’ he asks.
‘Oh, yeah, right – I don’t know how I would have survived,’ I say in my best damsel-in-distress voice.
‘No, I’m actually asking,’ he says. ‘What do you wish we’d done differently?’
‘I wanted real people?—’
‘We’re not using robots,’ he says with a laugh. ‘These are real people. Okay, they’ve been on TV before, and I get why you have a problem with Elle, and I’m sorry?—’
‘Can we just leave it?’ I say – it’s my turn to interrupt him. ‘We’re here now and I don’t care. I just want to get this over with.’
‘And I just want to make it the best season yet,’ he replies. ‘That’s all.’
‘By trying to script every single part of it?’ I check, sarcasm in my tone.
‘Not every part,’ he replies. ‘Or I would have made you much easier to work with.’
‘Everyone else loves working with me,’ I point out.
