"How have we not been her before?" asked Marc.

"I know, right?" agreed Charlie.

"It feels very un-Soho..." observed Marc.

"It feels like what you kind of wish Soho would be but never is..." nodded Charlie.

"It reminds me of that place in Islington."

"Or maybe Zetter Townhouse..." added Marc.

"They’re both run by the same guy aren’t they?" suggested Charlie. "Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if this was also one of his."

"I’d Google it if I cared..." shrugged Marc. "What have you ordered?"

"An Old Fashioned..." replied Charlie.

"Obviously..." nodded Marc. "That's the only cocktail you know, right?"

"Rude..." grinned Charlie. "Not totally inaccurate, but rude. What are you getting?"

"Probably the same..." shrugged Marc. "How’s your day been?"

"Okay, I think..." replied Charlie. "I’m not sure."

"What does that mean?" asked Marc.

"I don’t know..." shrugged Charlie. "I watched a few episodes of that Zumbo’s cooking show."

"Are you kidding me?" exclaimed Marc. "The dessert one? That’s so rubbish!"

"I know..." admitted Charlie. "I’m not proud of it. I watch an episode whenever I feel like a break. I fast forward though all the boring bits just to get to the judging. There’s something about the way that they stare intensely at each other while shovelling cake into their mouths."

"You’re so weird..." smiled Marc. "You can’t pretend that watching cooking shows counts as working."

"No, you’re probably right..." admitted Charlie. "What are we seeing tonight?"

"Musik..." replied Marc. "It’s sort of a Pet Shop Boys musical crossed with a one-woman show."

"Are we getting food afterwards?" asked Charlie.

"Am I paying?" asked Marc.

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" grinned Charlie. "I feel like a dirty Chinese."

"I don’t think you can say that..." said Marc.

"What do you mean?" asked Charlie.

"Well, it just sounds a bit racist..." explained Marc.

"I’m talking about the food, not the people..." protested Charlie. "How can that be racist? It’s a compliment, that’s what it is. Anyway, I’m half-Malaysian. You can’t accuse me of being racist against Asians - they’re my people."

"You’re an idiot..." smiled Marc.

"How’s your underwear exhibitionist going?" asked Charlie.

"Pretty good..." shrugged Marc.

"Is he still married?" asked Charlie.

"Yes..." nodded Marc.

"But you’ve had repeat business?" asked Charlie.

"Yes..." confirmed Marc. "Tell me if this is creepy or cool."

"I’m listening..." encouraged Charlie.

"If you’d been sexting with someone, talking about thongs and how much it would turn you on to fool around while wearing a thong, and then they bought you a thong, that’s cool, right?" asked Marc.

"Just to be clear, which character are you playing in this role-play?" asked Charlie.

"I bought a thong for him..." explained Marc.

"It’s a lot..." said Charlie.

"Too much?" asked Marc.

"Have you told him?" asked Charlie.

"Yes..." nodded Marc.

"What was his reaction?" asked Charlie.

"He seemed excited..." shrugged Marc.

"Then you’re fine..." decided Charlie. "What did you buy?"

"A black one and a pink one..." replied Marc. "They look hot."

"I don’t really see the appeal myself..." shrugged Charlie. "Doesn’t it just get in the way?"

"I’m not sure..." acknowledged Marc. "I think he’s excited by the thought of trying them on, showing them off, playing around with them. That kind of thing."

"I can see that..." nodded Charlie. "Keep me posted. Have we got time for another Old Fashioned?"

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