Author's Note: Pain! I have been in lots and lots of pain. But now I'm not in pain and all is getting well, ha ha, so here is a chapter for you all my loves -and Knight ;)-

Will message everyone I chat to on here tomorrow, cos it's crazy o'clock! Xxx

Disclaimer: No Boosh is my Boosh.

Warnings: Language

Vince's arm weaved between the steaming teacups and food plates. His hand landed on top of Howard's, pinning the ringing mobile to the table.

There was irritation in his eyes now, Howard saw.

It was a strange moment though, as they realised their hands were touching; it felt as though time should have frozen around them, and been nothing but a bizarre mix of embarrassment and confusion, warmth and comfort, suspicion and fear, the oblong of technology buzzing furiously like an angry fly beneath their hands, but no; time flowed normally, the patrons of the café still rustled newspapers, chattered in groups, ordered food and tried to quieten grizzling offspring.

"How many times?"

Howard's eyes met Vince's; "Sorry."

It hadn't gone how they had hoped. They hadn't caught up, or even chatted like old times; just spent the time avoiding the obvious, their words forced and distant as they tried to avoid the one subject that was forever in the way, as if it was a huge boulder in the middle of the table and they had to crane around it to see each other.

"If you're not gonna answer it just turn it off,"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"… I can't."

"…"

"So er, how's the band been working out for you?"

"Pretty good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Howard jumped violently as the phone rang again, sending the table bucking upwards with his knees.

And hot tea to spill over Vince's thighs, the stylish red drainpipes.

There was the click and flash of a camera at the same moment Vince leapt up from the table with a curse word or two.

Howard stood up too. "Shit, Vince, I- I'm sorry!"

Vince was just stood very still.

They left immediately. Well, Vince did, Howard was left to pay, apologise and scramble after him.

Another camera click and flash.

Vince was power-walking up the street, heels clicking on the pavement in a snippy monotone.

"Vince; wait-"

Click

Vince carried on walking ahead in silence, Howard running and apologising behind him, the occasional camera flash shining in the reflection of the studs on the back of his jacket. He didn't turn and look for the camera, or wait for Howard to catch up, he just walked, fast, doing nothing but pressing a simple button on his mobile, all the time aware of his aching feet- the shoes clearly not having been designed for a quick getaway- and the burning liquid scalding his legs, slowly cooling and the air somehow just making it worse.

XXX

Vince had an entourage. An entourage that to be honest, deserved a capital 'E'. This Entourage didn't scatter in all directions like some might imagine, but stayed together as a highly efficient unit, reminding Howard of the flock of birds you could sometimes see in the distance if you went up on the Nabootique roof at the right time in the morning- they would swoop and soar elegantly, but never come apart, like a handkerchief twisting and folding in on itself in the air.

They were waiting for Noir as soon as he got through the doors of the hotel, and moved with him as he jogged upstairs without a word. The band, who had been loitering in the hotel foyer, watched with amusement.

Howard followed, desperate to apologise and check Vince was okay, skidding breathless into the corridor their room was on at the same time Vince, surrounded by the Entourage, spoke-

"Howard's got the door key,"

Howard had already retrieved it from his pocket as one of Them came to take it from him. She was small and pretty with a pink streak in her hair, and seemed to be the closest to Vince.

He'd ponder that later.

He didn't let them shut him out and made sure he shoved his way in before the door shut, then stood watching as Vince stripped his jeans in front of them all.

"S'fucking burning."

A chatter rose from the Entourage, most of them asking if he was alright, and a few dispatched and went over to the wardrobe, returning with more than enough pairs of Vince's jeans for him to pick from, whilst the girl with the pink streak ran off somewhere with the pair drenched in tea.

Howard watched it all unfold, and felt alien and out of place, as if he were watching worker bees or some other species that just didn't need him.

I shouldn't have come here.