As it turned out, Vince's favourite breakfast cereal tasted exactly the same whether he was in Vince's body or his own; absolutely disgusting. Vince seemed a little disappointed, but at the same time thrilled to discover that as Howard, he was still capable of eating it. Howard watched in horror as he ate three bowlfuls. He didn't know how the other man managed to keep his figure, the junk he was constantly shovelling into his mouth. It was rare to see him eat anything that wasn't 90 sugar. He was just blessed that way, a fast metabolism or something. Howard, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. A few days of this, and when they got back in their own bodies, he wasn't going to be able to fit in any of his clothes.

Rather that wait to see if he was going to have a fourth, Howard retreated to the living room and gazed longingly as his collection of jazz records. He didn't know what Vince's supposed allergy to jazz was, since really, when you think about it, it's not possible to be allergic to a musical genre. Most likely it was one of those psychological things, but he didn't dare risk it. Instead, he sat on the sofa and buried his face in a book. Not even a book he was actually interested in, just the closest reading material to him. His eyes stared at the pages, but his brain didn't take the words.

He was vaguely aware of Vince walking past him into the bedroom, but didn't even notice that he had re-entered the room until he was right in front of him. He had changed into Howard's clothes; clothes that actually fit. He walked slowly across the room and stopped at the full length mirror hanging on the wall, the second thing he had brought to the flat after they moved in, the first being the mirror in the bedroom. He stood there for a few moments, just looking, and then stuck his tongue out.

Howard returned his attention to his book. He was reading the words, but they just didn't seem to be sticking. He wondered vaguely whether being in Vince's body meant everything he saw was being filtered through Vince's brain before it reached him, and whether there might actually be something wrong with it that prevented him from enjoying anything that didn't have lots of colourful pictures. It would explain why Vince never read anything more challenging than Cheekbone magazine and the occasional issue of NME.

"Howard. Hey, Howard. Howard? Look at this. Howard?"

Howard looked up to find Vince gurning, pulling his face into the most ridiculous shape. All scrunched up, his cheeks puffed out with air, nose squashed by a finger, eyes squinting. As Howard looked at him he broke into a grin and laughed. "Yeah, that's great, Vince," Howard told him, and returned to his book.

"Great? It's genius. I'm gonna have to take some photos before we switch back!"

Howard ignored him. This was bad enough without the prospect of utter humiliation to look forward to.

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"Shouldn't we have opened the shop by now?"

Howard gave up on the book and placed it back on the floor where he had found it."I don't think that's a very good idea Vince."

"Why not? Naboo won't be very happy if he finds out we didn't even bother opening up on Saturday, it's the busiest day, you know,"

The busiest day meant there was a chance of one, maybe even two customers popping in, looking around and leaving without buying anything. "I think we can probably risk it," Howard told him.

Vince looked down at his slippered feet, up again at Howard, picked up and put down a series of random objects from the table in front of him and sighed loudly. "But I'm bored," he announced, "C'mon Howard, it's not like you've got anything else to do, is it?"

"I thought you didn't want me going out in public in case I embarrass you. And I've got to say, Vince, no offence but I'd rather not have people thinking you're me either. You were right before, we should both stay here and wait for Naboo."

"I've changed my mind..."

"Doesn't matter. Just find something to do."

Vince looked around the room, moving his head theatrically from side to side, eyes sweeping the floor and walls for anything of interest. He got up and wondered into the bedroom, out again, into the kitchen, and finally the bathroom, where he shut the door and locked it with a loud click.

Howard leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. He tapped his fingers on the sofa arm, rubbed his nose, wondered whether he should tidy up a bit. He tried not to think about Vince witnessing one of his most personal bodily functions. The clock seemed to be ticking louder than normal, Howard ignored it in a very deliberate way that actually made him notice it more. The flat really was a mess, wasn't it? It was Vince's doing, and Naboo's. Somewhere along the way Howard had just got tired of tidying up after them.

The clock ticked louder still, as though it was trying to be noticed. He ignored it again. But...Vince had been in there an awfully long time, hadn't he? Not that he was worried at all, it was just if there was something wrong, he ought to know. It was his body, after all. If there were any problems...

Howard got to his feet and worked his way through the junk towards the bathroom door, but before he made it, the door opened and Vince emerged, looking very pleased with himself. He made eye contact with Howard for the briefest of moments, then looked away, blushing, the tiniest of smiles on his face.

He hadn't been..? No, surely not. Howard chased a truly disturbing thought from his mind and sat himself back down. Vince watched him for a second, then slouched into Naboo's favourite armchair. "I've got an idea," he said, "There's something I've been meaning to do for ages,"

"Great," said Howard, "you go to it."

"It needs both of us. And we need to go out. You can choose your own clothes, anything you want, as long as it's mine. And look, I'm already dressed like you. How perfect is that?"

Howard shook his head, "If I don't want to open the shop, what makes you think I want to wander around town pretending to be you?"

Vince's head swung around and he glanced at the on the bathroom door, Howard felt the blood rush to his face. "Because I'm bored," Vince said, "And you're my friend, so you're supposed to entertain me. Please? Besides, you're bored too. I just saw you read the first page of that book seventeen times. This'll be more fun than that."

Howard stood up, how bad could it be? The chances of them encountering someone that knew him were practically non-existent, and if Lester Corncrake did happen to be around, he wouldn't see him anyway. Vince was the one with something to lose if he made a mistake, and Vince was the one nagging him to go, so if anything went wrong, he only had himself to blame.