I stand there and knock them all back, not minding the burn so much since I'm too full of satisfaction that I got one over on Dorotea and her “chop chop” clappy fucking hands. The barman gives me the bottle of champagne in a fancy bucket of ice, as well as four glasses. I carry them all back to the dressing room, where I find Nicholas still in his drag outfit, surrounded by his three admirers. Phil has disappeared off somewhere. “Well, here you go ladies and gent,” I announce. “Champagne for my real friend, real pain for my sham friends,” quoting the Fall Out Boy song as I'm feeling particularly “emo” right now. “Ah, great movie,” says Nicholas with a smile, thinking I'm referring to the film 25th Hour. I give him my best moody teenager you are so old you don't even get what I'm talking about eye roll, even though he's only three years older than me. “Pop open the bubbly Doro,”
