"I wasn't..." her voice trailed off. She hadn't been asking him out, just mates for a drink, right? "And he doesn't..." because Charlie didn't, not like some other folks. "He's just bloody well fit and good to look at, yeah?"
Emma had a feeling she was digging the hole deeper and deeper, and she couldn't even think of a topic to get away from it. "Karaoke." She grabbed back onto that one. "We'll go, but I'm not asking you out, yeah? I don't do dates, not proper ones. They're just messes and two folks trying to dance around each other and figure out what to talk about. We go as mates. Besides, can't drink properly on a date, yeah?"
Digging. Hole. Bright red, flushed and warm, and thinking maybe she ought to go back out front, or maybe George'd walk in and oh bloody hell no, that'd just be worse, wouldn't it? If he found her in the backroom stammering and blushing over his mate. God no.