“Hope this is the last time, Ted, old fel--which isn't any reflection on
the last eight years odd,” says Oliver slowly, and their hands grip once
and hard. Then they both start talking fast as they walk back to the
house to cover the unworthy emotion. But just as they are going in the
door, Oliver hisses into Ted's ear, an advisory whisper,
“Now go and eat all the supper you can, you idiot--it always helps.”