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The thing was, Biggles really liked Wilks. He did. He thought of jokes no one else would, and always said them out loud. He cheated at cards in a very predictable way; he was proud, relentlessly so; and he always seemed to know exactly what Biggles was thinking and how to make him think something completely different. They fought, most of the time, about anything and everything they could think of – but somehow, Biggles realised, as he tipped the remaining slug of whisky into his mouth and swallowed, they had become firm friends.
Which made this all the more awkward.