Syed dashed up the road from Old Street, tucking in his shirt and whipping a tie from his inside pocket. He could see Ciaran in the distance, pacing fretfully outside the front door of the six bedroom town house, an imposing property overlooking the square.

Syed felt sorry for him, seeing a reflection of himself outside Christian's gym, the same discomfiture, stressed and worried that he was going to mess things up.

As he neared, and spotted the relief on Ciaran's face, he smiled reassuringly.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Masood. I gave him the tour, did all the spiel, like you taught me. But he was adamant he wanted to deal with the boss…."

Syed tightened the knot on his tie and did up the buttons on his jacket, feeling hot and overdressed in the glorious sunshine.

"It's okay Ciaran. You've done your best. It's an expensive property to leave you to deal with, I should have been here. Are those the details?"

Ciaran nodded, relieved and surprised that he hadn't received a telling off, or the sack, handed over the glossy brochure.

"Thank you. Get back to the office. In fact, take the rest of the day off. See you tomorrow. Is he inside?"

"Back bedroom on the third floor when I left him. Cheers Mr. Masood!"

Syed grinned wryly.

"You mean the study. Off you go."

Syed took a deep breath and looked up at the grand house, grand now, not too many months before it had been a derelict squat. Ciaran had been right, it was a back bedroom, not a study.

'So many lies in my life.' Thought Syed sadly. He was sick of them. Girding himself up to try and sell the overpriced space to a man with probably more money than sense, he entered the house.

"Hello!" His footfall resonated loudly on the bare wooden boards and his voice echoed back to him.

"Mr. Pilgrim!" He pushed open the door and held out his hand. "Hi, so sorry to keep you waiting, Syed Masoo…."

Christian stood at the opposite side of the room, leaning casually, elbow resting on the stone mantle piece, one foot propped up against the wall.

"Hey." He said quietly.

"Merchant banker?" Syed clutched the glossy brochure in front of him, his nails digging into the cover.

Christian smiled.

"Cockney rhyming slang. In case you think I am one. Nice tie."

Syed lifted his hand to his throat, loosened the knot nervously.

"I never thought that. I got scared. Nice vest."

Christian shifted slightly, stroking his finger along the top of the fireplace sending dust motes swirling into a shaft of sunlight.

"And are you scared now?" He asked quietly.

"Yes. But I don't care, it doesn't matter..." Syed took a hesitant step nearer, longing to close the distance between them.

"Why'd you run off Sy?"

He turned his head and Syed saw the hurt in his eyes. The words cracking in his throat, Syed answered.

"Because of my faith. I can't love you."