Apple Core:

George:

He's not answering his phone

I'm starting to worry about him

Ringo:

What do you think happened to him?

  - peace and love 😎✌️💖🌟🎶☮️☮️ 

John:

His phone died

Stop worrying, mama George

George:

Sod off

Someone has to worry 

John:

I'm not going to help you find him

I'll stay in the rooftop like you said. You and Ringo help find him

Ringo:

Will do 

  - peace and love 😎✌️💖🌟🎶☮️☮️ 

George:

You are a git, John

Something bad could have happened to him with that fall

...

Paul patted his pockets but found his phone wasn't with him. He continued walking down the different areas of tables, stopping at a table where they were dealing cards. He sat and a waitress approached. Though there were many smells, of cigarettes and closure, her sweet perfume reminded him of someone.

"Clara?" He asked.

"Nice seeing you again," Clara said. "Let's pick up where we left off our conversation."

"Right, you didn't give me a certain answer," Paul said. She said she'd think about it, maybe she'd show up for the night. But what if she didn't? Should he stop wasting his time?

"Because I said I wasn't sure if Mr. Patel would agree."

What? Where they talking about the same thing. Goodness, was Mr. Patel running something illegal? Paul frowned. "He said yes."

"Oh," Clara said. "I guess I'd be willing to do it. It's not favoritism, you just like the job I do. Like when you go to a salon and you only want that stylist."

What. The. Heck. He knew he was drunk and he'd had a fall, but was Clara speaking in plain English?

"What?" He asked.

"I'll serve you drinks for the rest of the night," she gave him a smile. Okay? He muttered a thanks, the frown still there. Clara returned a few minutes later with a drunk and it seemed all of her sweetness she'd shown him previously was gone.