James, Alison & Gwen
Not for the first time, James found himself waiting politely for Alison to tire of being vivacious. In his favourite black jeans, the pair which looked more expensive than they were, he leant against a doorframe, a little away from the epicentre of conversation and allowed himself to drift, pleasantly, in and out of the loop. He wasn’t bored. He often looked bored when he was relaxed, and he felt relaxed as he leaned against a doorframe or a refrigerator, brandy in hand, listening either to Alison’s voice or the things she was saying. James was tipsier than he meant to be, he realised smiling and shot out a tongue that licked remnants of brandy from the edges of his lips. Snatches of conversation reached him – “Yeah, well remember what happened with Eleanor and Boring
