“Do you know what you’re doing?” Beth stood off to the side tapping with her arms crossed and tapping her foot on a rock.
“Of course. Relax.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you…”
John rolled his eyes as he struck the match, bent over, and touched it to the fluid soaked charcoal. The flames shot up, catching him in the face and head.
At least it’s lit. Smacking at his forehead, John turned to Beth and smiled. “See? Nothing to it.”
“Uh huh. Tell that to your eyebrows and hair, dumbass.”
He smiled and shrugged. “I needed a haircut.”