Note: this chapter contains some mild prejudice views.

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"I'm not being funny mate, but why are you laughing about this?" Andrew walks around the pool table, his cue in his hand. He lowers his body; so that his eyes are level with the top of it. He positions the cue, examining his strategic placement of it in relation to the balls he is aiming for. With one eye shut, he shifts a couple of millimetres to the right, before pulling back; when he strikes, he hits a ball successfully into the corner hole of the table. "Get in." His body raises from its previous knelt-down state, before he gives George a glance in disapproval.

"Well," George chuckles, bending down to take his turn. With a quick swipe of his cue, he too hits a ball into a hole. "It's just unheard of, isn't it? Andrew Ridgeley — biggest dosser to come from Bushey Meads School; liver of life on the dole — actually applying for a job, and getting an interview?" He looks to his friend, an expression of exaggerated disbelief evident on his chiselled Greek features.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Andrew scowls, folding his arms like a spoiled three-year-old would. "It's like you said — adult life, isn't it? I've got to catch up at some point." He takes another turn at pool, before resting the tip of the cue against the floor; like a walking stick. "I thought you'd be proud of me."

"Oh, don't hit me with the sad voice. Or that awful sad face," George scoffs in amusement, approaching Andrew; he squeezes his cheek playfully. "I never said I wasn't proud. It's just, I mean ... it only took twenty-three years for you to realise this is what life is, hey?"

"D'you know, you're very patronising sometimes?" By now, Andrew can't keep a straight face; he starts laughing at how condescending George is being. "It's lucky you're my best mate. I don't allow everybody to talk to me like that."

"Goodness me! Born five months before me and you think you're my dad," George jibes, rolling his eyes. "It's my job to backchat you. Nobody else will."

"Because I don't allow them to. I just told you that." Andrew shakes his head, giving up the game and placing the pool cue onto the table, despite there being some balls left to hit. "So, do you think I'll get this job then?"

"If you don't fuck up the interview, perhaps," George responds honestly. "After all, I'm fairly sure that answering 'Where do you see yourself in five years' time?', with, 'Still needing money like I do right now', isn't the best bet for securing a job."

"Hey, I wouldn't normally answer like that," Andrew defends himself. "I never even wanted that job. It offered shit pay anyway."

"I mean, it paid completely reasonably. You just thought getting a well-paying job without a degree was going to be easy." George shrugs, also setting his pool cue on the table. "But I suppose it's good that you're finally stepping up, and thinking about your future. You'll thank yourself for it in the long run."

"I suppose," Andrew reasons. He gestures with his head, over to the bar of the local pub they're in. "Fancy a drink?"

"No thanks," George rejects quickly, his demeanour suddenly becoming incredibly serious. "I don't do drinks in bars anymore."

"Ah, Yog. It isn't as if the barmaid is going to spike your drink, is it?" Andrew frowns, out of pity for his friend. "Tell you what — I'll order you one anyway. And I'll watch her make it, from start to finish, to make sure nothing dodgy happens. If you don't want to drink it, you don't have to."

George hesitantly nods. "Alright. Thanks." As Andrew walks away to order, George can't help but find it sweet how understanding his buddy has just been about the drink situation. Even with being friends for years, the dynamic of the duo is typically more careless, and teasingly disparaging; however, just this simple act has changed George's perspective a little for the better. He watches as Andrew intently analyses the way George's drink is being made; when he is satisfied that it's been completed to a good standard, he brings the drinks back over to the pool table, setting them down on a small worktop close by.

"Here we are," Andrew announces, sliding George's drink in his direction. "One definitely-not-spiked beverage for His Majesty."

"I appreciate it," George answers, his tone genuine. He takes a single sip; admittedly, he's still a little cautious about drinking in a public space after the incident with Jules. Although, he does trust Andrew to keep him safe.

"So, mate." Andrew takes a sip of his drink, before taking a seat at the table; his glass collides with the solid oak to make a shallow clinking sound, as he places it down again. "How have you been lately? With Steph? In general?"

"Yeah, it's been alright." George joins his pal, settling on a stool opposite him. "Surprisingly better since we last went out. I expected things to feel hopeless after that, to tell you the truth."

"Well, that's good to hear." Andrew gives him a soft, loose grin; then, his eyes avert across the room. "You'd have thought I'd have learnt my lesson about females in bars," he continues, pointing behind George as subtly as he can. "But don't you think she's something?"

George turns his head, trying to sneak a glance as inconspicuously as he can. He sees the bleached-blonde bombshell he's referring to — with a stunning curly perm; bold blue eyeshadow that compliments her frosted irises; a silky red-wine lip; and a slinky build. She catches sight of the boys, locking eyes with Andrew for a split-second as she walks past their table. They just manage to get a glimpse of the smirk she has upon her face from the male attention she's just received.

"I mean, if you're into that," George finally speaks, taking another reluctant sip of his drink. "She doesn't look too threatening, I guess. Why don't you go and talk to her?"

"She's out of my league," Andrew evaluates speedily, running his tongue over his upper lip. "She'd probably laugh in my face if I even gave her my name."

"Why don't you find out, love?" Both boys are startled, when they find the same female is stood right behind them; her arms are folded confidently under her chest, and she has one eyebrow raised flirtatiously. "Because actually, I was thinking the same about you. What do I call you?"

"Uh ... Andrew," he stammers, still in shock from the fact she heard their conversation. "What about you?"

"I normally don't give my real name away to people I've just met, but you seem pretty harmless." She draws up a chair from another table, joining them. "So for you, Andrew — and for your friend — you can call me Nancy."

"Nancy is a very classy name," George compliments, a friendly closed-mouth smile touching upon his lips. He looks to his friend. "Isn't it, Andy?" With how distracted Andrew is by her appearance, George has to nudge him under the table with his leg; to bring him back into the zone. "Isn't it?"

"Uh!" Andrew reacts abruptly to the physical contact from George. "Yes. It's a beautiful name, I must say."

"Well, thanks. I suppose I don't hate Andrew as a name, either." She chuckles, to indicate her comment is only a joke. "And what do you go by, pretty boy?" Her eyes flit to George.

"I'm Georgios," he introduces, pronouncing it as Greek as he possibly can to confuse her. "But I guess you could call me George, if it's easier for your sweet little brain."

"Hey, back off mate. You're taken. No flirtation allowed." Andrew slaps the side of his head, which earns a laugh from Nancy. "If anybody is to be calling her brain 'sweet', it's me."

"I'm not threatened by his kind words, Andrew, don't you worry." Nancy grins at George; almost as though she's uncovered a deep, dark secret about him. "He's too pretty to possibly be straight, anyway."

"Excuse me?" George cocks an eyebrow in surprise; admittedly, he tries to hide just how stunned he truly is at her ability to sense this. "I have a girlfriend at home, my darling."

"So does she know you're gay?" she teases, glancing over at Andrew — who looks just as uneasy as George does. "When are you telling her?"

"He's definitely not gay, Nancy. What makes you think that?" Andrew defends his pal.

"I just thought it because of how groomed his eyebrows are, and how camp his outfit is. No big deal if I'm wrong," she explains, holding her hands up in surrender. "It's great that you're in a happy relationship. Excuse my prejudice."

"Are you saying my outfit is bad?" George gasps, feeling no need to take offence over her stereotyped views. Besides, anything to keep the illusion of his nonexistent heterosexuality going. "I thought I looked nice today." He presses his fingers to his chest, to showcase what he's wearing.

"You do mate," Andrew cackles, sensing that there's no longer any tension. "I love that turtleneck on you."

George chuckles. "Why, thank you Andy. I'm quite partial to a bit of neck warmth."

Nancy giggles softly at the banter between the friends. "You guys are great. I could get used to being around this." She averts her eyes to Andrew, offering a smile that perfectly mixes seduction with sincerity. "I think I could definitely get used to being around this, in particular." Her hand touches to his arm, to emphasise what she means by 'this'.

"Can I get you a drink?" Andrew invites sweetly, returning the smile. "What are you into?"

"I'm a basic girl. I'll just take a gin and tonic. In fact, make it double — seeing as you're paying." She flashes a wink, trapping her lower lip between her teeth. "What a lovely guy."

"Of course." Andrew leaps up from the table, to head to the bar.

While he's gone, Nancy focuses her attention on George. "So, George," she begins, enunciating his name as English as possible as a dig at his Greek genes. "Teach me how to say your real name. I just can't get my head around it."

"It's not too difficult, provided you can roll your Rs," George informs her, leaning back in his seat. He takes another swig of his drink, before continuing. "My full name is a bit of a mouthful, if you're not Greek though. My whole name is Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou."

"Uh ... " She looks absolutely bewildered by this. "Say just your first name again."

"Georgios." He can't help but find amusement in her puzzled expression, so he repeats it slower. "Georgios."

"Yor-gee-oss." She laughs, embarrassed at her pronunciation. "Yee-or-gee-oss."

"I mean, you're not the worst I've ever heard," George reassures her. His mind then flutters back to the time Levi attempted to say his name, a few days ago. "I'll say it again. Georgios."

"Georgios," she repeats, finally hitting it as close as she is physically capable of, given her accent.

"There you go. You're a master," he praises, clapping his hands together a few times, his way of giving feeble applause.

"I have a great teacher," she replies, perhaps a little too politely.

"Hey! Mind the flirting." Andrew arrives back at the table, setting Nancy's gin and tonic in front of her. "I told you, he's taken."

"He was just teaching me how to say his name," she answers honestly. "It's a very interesting name, don't you think?"

"Yes. That's why I've only ever called him 'Yog' since I've known him." Andrew shrugs, returning to his seat. "Because I never could say it when I was a kid."

"Yog? That's a sweet name." She nods in approval, before putting a little thought into it. "The first syllable of his real name, I'm guessing?"

"You should be a detective. You're too good at solving things," George comments; his statement refers subtly to her saying he's gay earlier. "I mean, get Poirot on the phone."

"I just like to over-analyse things," she admits, whipping her head back to take a large swallow of her beverage. The slight burning in her throat causes her to groan softly. "I've done it my whole life. But enough about me." Once more, she looks in Andrew's direction. "What do you do?"

"Well, at the moment, nothing. Although, I do have an interview coming up in a couple of days." His eyes hold an element of seriousness within them; it's easy to tell he has a certain fondness to this young woman. "Why? Does that scare you off?"

"Absolutely not. I like a man who can be a little risky." Her hand touches upon the white sleeve of his t-shirt; she applies more pressure to his arm, to feel whether he has any muscle. "I also like guys who don't follow the crowd. I'm not into facial hair or—" She suddenly realises George has this quality, "Sorry. Nothing personal George." When George gives a head nod to suggest he isn't bothered, she continues. "Or muscle. I think these things are just drilled into young men; something they must have in order to be seen as masculine. It's nonsense. And as a female it's been drilled into me, that anybody who goes against these norms must be gay. Hence my earlier comments about George." She flits her eyes to him, "Which I'm still sorry for."

"You're very articulate," George answers. "But really, there's no need to be sorry. You're right. These things do get drilled in from quite a young age."

"Did you just say I don't have muscle?" Andrew intercepts, flexing his arm to demonstrate his disagreement. However, this doesn't go quite to plan. "Alright. Maybe you have a point."

"But I like it," Nancy assures him. "A lot. In fact, maybe I could get to know a little more about you elsewhere. Do you have a place?"

"I still live at home, but my parents aren't back until much later." Andrew is already starting to feel the sensation of excitement within him; he's never quite felt this level of attraction to a female so soon after meeting them. In fact, he's only ever found sexual attraction in anybody; yet this time, it seems as though he also enjoys her personality, too. "Again, does that put you off?"

"Not at all." She finishes her drink, before rising from her chair. She pulls Andrew up from his by his arm. "So I think we better get going, hey?"

Andrew laughs at her enthusiasm. "Absolutely. You don't mind, Yog?"

"Go ahead mate. I should be getting home anyway," George encourages. "Be sure to tell me all the gory details tomorrow."

With a quick nod, Andrew and Nancy head for the exit of the pub. "Talk to you tomorrow mate." With that, he's out of sight.

George can't help but feel happy for his friend. Today has seen a huge development in Andrew as a person; in that he has finally started thinking of his future. He has gotten himself a job interview, and he seems to be on the right track towards courting Nancy. She gives the impression that she is a genuine character; very likeable, and very smart. From the very brief time George shared with her, he has reached the conclusion that she is the complete antithesis of Jules — something that is very refreshing to him. As he grabs his jacket, his mind wanders to the phone call he had with Levi a few days prior to today. After teaching Nancy how to pronounce his birth name, he can't help but recall the discussion he and Levi shared about his name, too. This eventually spirals into thoughts about Levi as a person; the air of mystery surrounding his appearance, and the rest of his personality yet to be discovered, is enough to drive George crazy.

He decides that, once he is home, he will talk to this stranger again — for he wishes to get to know him a lot better.

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Chapter twelve! Hope you enjoyed it. xx