Wayne shrugged as he took another drink. "Well... It brings in a few quid," he said, sitting back. "If I could write like Thom Yorke then I'd be onto something." He did play his own songs, occasionally, at his uncle's place, but no one in the center of town wanted to hear songs they didn't know.
"Hackney, huh?" He said, changing the subject away from him to her, awkwardly. "Not too far off from me in Tottenham, then." This conversation should not have been so tense... "Any prospects on the job front?"