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Alex is taking notes in a policy lecture when he gets the first text.
This bloke looks like you.
There's a picture attached, an image of a laptop screen paused on Chief Chirpa from Return of the Jedi: tiny, commanding, adorable, pissed off.
This is Henry, by the way.
He rolls his eyes, but adds the new contact to his phone: HRH Prince Dickhead. Poop emoji.
He's honestly not planning to respond, but a week later he sees a headline on the cover of People - PRINCE HENRY FLIES SOUTH FOR WINTER - complete with a photo of Henry artistically posed on an Australian beach in a pair of sensible yet miniscule navy swim trunks, and he can't stop himself.
you have a lot of moles, he texts, along with a snap of the spread. is that a result of the inbreeding?
Henry's retort comes two days later by way of a screenshot of a Daily Mail tweet that reads, Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father? The attached message says, But we were ever so careful, dear, which surprises a big enough laugh out of Alex that Zahra ejects him from her weekly debriefing with him and June.
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