George had a case of the boreds as well, and a bored Weasley was something dangerous. Of course, it was all Fred's fault. Fred wanted to go over the final spreadsheets of finances. They were horrifyingly close to Grand Opening, and Fred was insistent on making things balance.
George didn't understand or care about all the squiggly numbers. So, instead of setting fire to something interesting, he'd taken his leave of his twin and wandered down the alley toward the pub. The pub might be good, or one of the exciting things out in London proper.
Whistling, he stepped through the back door of the Leaky Cauldron and stopped to scan the room.
He audibly squeaked when he spied Alicia and was halfway to hiding behind the nearest support post. Play it cool. She was just Alicia, right? Friends for EVER. Pickle throwing or not. Pretty hair or... ahem.
He brushed his hair out of his eyes, adopted a confident stride, and crossed the room to her table. "Hey!" he said brightly.