I know. I heard.
Sandy rested a hand on Trevor’s shoulder then asked with a raised eyebrow and a laugh.
Then why’d ya bloody ask for?
Trevor joined him in his laughter, before Sandy spoke again.
How’s life down at the council, mate?
Trevor returned with a coy smirk. He tried to change the subject again, but realised he’d lost Sandy’s attention to the music of the bar.
What’re ya want to drink, mate?
Nah, nothing. Ya don’t wanna stay here, mate, let’s go get a drink somewhere else – I know a spot round the corner – a nice little bar on a rooftop, ripper spot.
Trevor attempted to convince him. Usually, the choice of venue wouldn’t have mattered to the either men. But Trevor wanted to drag him away from there, from the place where Sandy had so spectacularly failed.
You still drinking brandy?
Trevor asked, trying a new approach.