Busted Eating A Crisp On The Phone

Sweezus and Sartre are in the bar carriage. 

Eating crisps, drinking beer.

Sartre gets a phone call.

Alors? says Sartre.

Have you begun blogging? asks Simone.

Oui, mon amour, answers Sartre.

I don't see it anywhere, says Simone. What's it called?

I'll send you a link, says Sartre.

He fumbles with his phone.

Is that Simone? asks Sweezus. 

It is, says Sartre. She wants to read what I've written.

Yeah, good plan, says Sweezus. See what she thinks of the title.

She won't like it, says Sartre, but she'll like the first paragraph.

About you paying for the bike spaces, says Sweezus.

Perhaps not that part, says Sartre.

Got it, ma chérie? asks Sartre.

Got it, says Simone. Existence precedes Essence. Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure, says Sartre.

It's your decision, says Simone. But aren't you planning to rescue a bear?

I'm not supposed to mention it yet, says Sartre.

I understand that, mon petit, says Simone. But what has essence got to do with it?

My essence has everything to do with it, says Sartre. The action of rescuing , indeed the series of actions leading up to the rescue, and the rescue itself, constitute what I make of myself.

It's not all about you, says Simone.

I know that, ma chou, says Sartre. Have you read any further? You'll see that I mention the young man who is travelling with me. 

Sweezus, yes, I know, says Simone. But I see you have paid for his bike space.

A courtesy, says Sartre. He is giving me useful advice.

Is he looking over your shoulder? asks Simone. You won't like that.

He has been playing Minecraft, says Sartre. He is making a pen for his goats.

That should keep him occupied, says Simone. What's that sound? Like crunching.

We're in the bar carriage, says Sartre. I am eating a crisp.

Don't eat too many, says Simone. You know how salty they are.

I know, says Sartre. And I do appreciate your opinion.

I know that, my love, says Simone.

The call ends.

What did she think? asks Sweezus.

Many things, says Sartre. 

Like what? asks Sweezus.

She doesn't like the title, she thinks I think everything's all about me. I pointed out that you have equal billing and she pointed out that I'd paid for your bike space.

She's a sharp one, says Sweezus.

She is, says Sartre.

I'll get the next round, says Sweezus. More crisps?

D'accord, says Sartre.