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“I was the same when I first arrived five years back. Everything is brighter, more vibrant than you expect. I’m still discovering areas of the city I never knew existed.”

Lucy jumped in. “That’s because you’re a workaholic.” She turned to Alex. “We rarely see him.”

The Irishman raised his eyebrows. “Oh, come on now. I’m not that bad. Can’t a guy love his job?”

Alex smiled. “Did you see the play at the Royal Court?”

“I was supposed to. I got called into work, and had to return the tickets.”

“See?” said Lucy. “Workaholic.”

Mark swatted across the table at Lucy, liberating a chip in the process.

“Did you see it?” he asked Alex.

“I did!” Alex’s eyes danced at the memory. “It was terrific, and the Royal Court…” She placed her hand over her heart. “…blew me away. Freddie says you’re an actor.”

Mark nodded. “I am. Graduated two years ago from the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. I’ve done some theatre and plenty of voiceovers for adverts back in Ireland. A few radio plays for the BBC. Auditions keep me busy. What about you?”

Freddie adjusted his glasses and volleyed back into action. “Alex is a playwright and a geek. Today, we baptized her at Forbidden Planet, and in turn she dragged us around…wait for it…the London bloody Transport Museum!”

Alex sank into the banquette. Nerd alert.

“Really?” Mark winked reassuringly at her.

Freddie went to take another bite of his half-eaten burger but thought better of it, so he could continue talking. “I particularly enjoyed fighting through screaming rug rats to climb on the double-decker buses on display. And those wax mannequins in period costumes on the Tube carriages really freaked me out.”

“God, they were awful. I swear the shaggy-haired one looked like a cross-eyed Boris Johnson. This Covent Garden talk reminds me, it’s Show-and-Tell time…” Lucy reached towards her feet and dropped a plastic bag on her lap. “Go on, Lex, show us what you bought.”

Alex opened her handbag, looking for her purchase, but Lucy’s eye caught a glimpse of something red and plastic.

“What’s this?” Lucy snatched the rectangular packet and held it aloft. “Twizzlers? Are you always packing sweets?”

Alex grabbed it out of Lucy’s hand and chucked it into her bag. “It’s a comfort thing, and they’re hard to find here.” She shot an anxious look through her bangs at Mark, who smiled kindly.

She flashed a small transit pass holder. “All I could afford was this Sherlock Oyster card cover. Maybe Benedict’s lovely face earns me a few points for trying?” Her eyes wandered back to Mark.

He held her gaze. “I’d say it does.” Alex bowed her head with a slight grin.

“Never feel bad, never. It was your first go.” Lucy stole some fries off Freddie’s plate. “At least you didn’t buy an Elementary cover. Then I would’ve been concerned. You can’t compare the two shows. It’s like Empire Strikes Back versus The Phantom Menace. Just wait until you get your first pay packet. You’ll be loading up on Doctor Who Titans just like Freddie.”

“I refuse to accept that comment as an insult.” Freddie raked his hand dramatically through his hair and swigged his pint.

“Mark, he did the bloody blind box thing again,” said Lucy. “Came away with three Oods and a Cyberman. I think the collectible gods threw in the Cyberman to prevent Freddie from doing something desperate. I laughed so hard I nearly gave birth to my kidneys.”

“Oods…remind me?” Mark scratched his head. “I’m not into Doctor Who like you lot.”

Lucy wiped her mouth with a napkin and launched wide-eyed into her explanation. “They’re the aliens that have human bodies, squinty reptilian eyes, and squid-like tentacles that hang down where their mouths should be. They carry these glowing orbs that are attached to their bodies by an umbilical cord.”

“Ah, right. Those guys.” Mark shook his head at his friend. “Yeah, that’s not a score, Freddie.”

Freddie couldn’t defend himself. His cheeks bulged with hamburger like a squirrel hoarding peanuts.

“Never mind the fandom failure over there.” Lucy dove into her plastic bag. “Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sure I’m not: I win the prize for best find today.” She held a Marvel comic a loft called A-Force #1, a cluster of colourful female Avengers vaulting from its cover, faces unflinching, and arms thrust defiantly towards the heavens. A powerful golden glow radiated their unspoken confidence. “It got a great review online. Alex, you can borrow it after me if you’d like.”

The blonde nodded enthusiastically. Any book or comic celebrating strong female characters immediately claimed the top spot on her must-read list.

“While we’re on the topic of writing…Alex, it’s brilliant you’re a playwright.” Mark’s tone was soft and indulgent.