Author's Note: Hey! I bring you more fic, for your hungry little eyes and ravenous minds!
Disclaimer:I don't own the Boosh, a'wright?
Warnings: Nothing yet….
They had nearly got through an entire day without any problems, minor or otherwise, and Howard was extremely proud of this achievement. The bin bags were in their DRAs so there were no urban foxes screaming in the alleyway, chasing each other along the roof, or indeed, trying to rise up and take over- no green cockneys had meandered into the shop with promises to cut them up or rape them behind the counter and the Spirit of Jazz wasn't tryin'a get inside him again.
But just then, when he was half sprawled against the counter, peering at the last dregs of coffee swirling unceremoniously at the bottom of his large red coffee mug, the girl came in.
"Oh," She said, her hair a cloud of jet black around her face, coming to lean casually on the counter near him, as if she lived there, "alright, Howard?"
Wondering how she knew his name, Howard blinked. Please don't be Old Gregg please don't be Old Gregg Please don't be Old Gregg Please please please don't be Old Gregg, "Hi… err, do I know you? Can I interest you in an elbow patch?"
She sighed.
Howard found himself staring at her, trying to work out whether her eyes were blue or green before she pulled her lips into a dazzling ruby-red smile.
"He hasn't even told you about me, has 'e?" her face fell somewhat.
Oh. So this was another of Vince's dollybirds? She wasn't the usual one that came into the shop though, asking for Vince or his phone number or what time he'd be back or where he was….
She suited him best though, better than anyone he'd ever seen Vince with actually; she was pretty with a stylish dress sense and small and feisty, just like Vince.
"Oh, you're looking for Vince," he tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, and decided it was better not to mention the other girl, "he's er… out… at the moment…"
The girl suddenly jumped up onto the counter, her face level with Howard's and just millimetres away. He blushed furiously, "He's right, you know," she said, "everything is written in your eyes. Like in the stars. I like eyes; a window to the soul…" she flashed him a smile again and then jumped gracefully back down, heavy, chunky boots hitting the floor with a thud, "It's alright, I know what he's doing. Tell him Phoebe said he's pathetic, and give him this…" she removed a rather beautiful onyx and turquoise ring from her finger and dropped it into Howard's palm, "Cheers, Howard,"
The maverick watched her leave, completely bemused and just a little bit shamefully turned-on.
Making a vibrant entrance sometime later, Vince tumbled into the shop with more than his own body weight in a rainbow of shopping bags and laughed, "Aw that was stellar!"
Howard watched him, un-amused, thinking of how that poor girl must be feeling. He seemed a little bit drunk too and there was a lipstick print on his cheek. Charming, sir.
"Shop assistants, right, well pushy, kept goin' on at me even though I told 'em eight times I didn't need help, so in the end I actually got 'em to carry my bags 'round Dalston!"
"That's not funny, Vince,"
"They're the ones that agreed! Lighten up, who's rattled your crate?"
"Er, it's you that's done the crate rattling actually, sir, Phoebe's crate to be exact. That ringing any bells for you?"
Vince visibly paled, which was quite something for him, "What- what d'you mean?" he dropped the bags at his feet.
"Well, she came in here, told me to tell you you're pathetic, and gave you this," Howard held up the ring.
Vince swore and was back out the door in seconds, in a cold rush of November air, "Don't loose that, yeah? An' watch my bags!"