Joe stared. It was a hard thing to do discreetly at the best of times, even without being in close proximity to the sour-looking cashier and the queue of fellow shoppers leading to the till, but he pulled it off with his usual resourcefulness. It was a delicate operation. He stood nonchalently - maybe leaned was a better word - with a sense of the wall being included somewhere in his plans for standing up, though that the vaguest, most undefined sense of the word; a posture which simply cried out to be ignored. His expression was masterful as well, something very blank, slightly bored, slightly expectant, perhaps philosophical even as it stared into space - space which the expression screamed was unimportant. Nothing at all to do with the things that inconveniently were positioned in front of his eyes; they, according to the expression, were just whatever happened to be in front of his eyes. No-one would think twice about what he was doing there; he appeared as if he could have been with any of the fellow queueing shoppers or perhaps just waiting for someone down the aisle to hurry up.

His eyes moved very slightly, though. They could have been scanning the packets in front of him, well, supposing he for some reason wanted to look at those silly rubber things. A fifteen year old boy? Why would he? No, most likely, thought onlookers, he was just staring into space for unknown but not particularly special reasons.

Joe was worried. One? Two? Twelve? How much would they cost - he had brought along 10$, but he didn't know if that would be enough. Ribs? Okay, he could imagine what those were for, but what if they hurt or something? Featherlite sounded dangerous, but then extrasafe could mean embarrassing lack of action. But why the hell would anyone want strawberry flavoured - could a lady taste down there?! Somehow he thought not.

The queue moved along. New people joined, and some old people bought their things and left. Joe turned hastily to the drinks fridge to his side, because he was suddenly sure the man with the disgusting stubble and brown leather coat was looking at him strangely.

Coca Cola battled Mountain Dew, but this was a decision Joe was used to making. Okay. Time is running out. Just take one - choose!

Okay! Normal! Pack of three! Fine! Good. Done. No-one's looking? No-one's looking. Double check Moustachio. No. Okay. Coast clear. Go...

With deft and calculated movements, he put his body through a turn which brought him into the queue neatly and efficiently, with the descreetest movement at the end of his turning arm passing the area, surely by accident, where the little rubber thingies hung in boxes. Maybe a sharp watcher would get the idea that there was something missing from the rack afterwards, but he would have shaken off that idea as a trick of the light. Or something.

Joe fought to regulate his excited breathing. Sweat pulled his shirt uncomfortably close. Okay. Good. He held the box like it was on fire, down so that one would have to look conspicuously under the conveyor belt to see. His other hand announced for all to see that he was buying an innocent Coke. Nothing else. Okay. Just...

Hairy-Upper-Lip paid for his fags and made to leave. The cashier looked at Joe. Suddenly he felt like his heartbeat would give him away. The severe, bored looking woman sucked the mole at the side of her mouth ominously.

"Are you buyin' that or do you jus' like pissing people orf hun'?" she drawled. Joe suddenly jumped forward, white faced and nodding. He passed over the Coke, easy as that.

The tenner sat crunched in his sweaty fist. "Anything else you want?" This was the moment. Go.

Joe paid. The other hand went limp, let drop the item. He left in a hurry. Out the door. Turned the corner. Was almost knocked to the ground by an unexpected brown coated figure going the other way. That Hitler-On-A-Rough-Morning guy. "Hey, careful!" the man said, not unkindly. They exchanged reflex apologies, manoeuvred, and made to part.

"Oh," The man pointed out with a smile, "you dropped something."

Joe looked down at the scrap of paper on the ground. "No..."

The man shrugged. "Sure? Well, it's not mine." He returned to his stride.

Joe got the sudden compulsion to look a second time.

His heart bolted. A... condom...

Suddenly his head burst with the image of the subtlest wink. But Luigi's-Big-Brother was gone. No. Wink? Course not. A trick of the light. Or something.

Joe didn't question good luck.

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