A Broken Sixpence 11/?
Legs 11.
Choosing a bottle of wine seemed particularly difficult and long-winded. Not that they couldn’t choose, but more because Alex was picking up something from every shelf and making up grandiose claims about Vanish cleaner, or tagliatelle, or mimicking the old boy putting tinned peas up on the shelves. Laughing like little kids, they picked out a bottle each and took they to the kiosk, bumping shoulders in the queue.
‘Time to get our glad rags on !’ Alex exclaimed, as Miles turned away making a phone call.
‘I just need to pop to Paul’s to get the rest in’, he explained, with a nod of his head.
Alex appraised his booty. Good company, wine and fags…surely this was the start to a good night ?
‘Miles, I want to sort me hair out !’ he wheedled.
‘I know, but it’ll just take ten more minutes to pick this up’.
Lost, Alex asked him ‘Pick up what ? Not a couple of delicious girls is it ?’
‘Nah, me speed.’ And looking at Alex’s confused features he realised he held the cards this time. ‘You haven’t tried it before, have you ?’
Alex pulled a face back at him. He knew lying was pointless when it came to bluffing out of this. ‘Booze ? yes, Puff ? yes. Speed ? Not yet’.
Miles felt that surge of excitement again and skipping forwards, grabbed at Miles’s duffel coat sleeve, and began dragging them Eastwards