He glanced casually over his shoulder and raised an appreciative eyebrow. The gesture was completely lost on her: she walked on by, turning her back on him and elaborately flicking her hair as she did so. It was a deliberate snub: he knew it, and she knew he knew it. He shrugged his shoulders. He was tired of the squabble. She walked ahead and, upon reaching the corner, she stopped, turned around to look at him some way behind, placed her hand on her hip and drew him a foul look as she instructed him to 'get a move on'. Sheepishly, he began walking a little faster; although he attempted to do so without letting her notice. He tried to appear nonchalant, even to the extent of thinking about whistling. He thought better of it. As he got closer, he could see that her features had softened and that her body language was now less hostile. He risked dropping his pace. He put his hands in his pockets and started whistling and pretending to look around himself. It worked. She started walking away, but she kept watching him as she did so. She was smiling. He was whistling and sauntering. 'You're an idiot, do you know that?' she laughed. 'That's why you stick with me' he replied before wolf-whistling.