Talking of piercings and dog collars was making his head spin. "Yeah, I'd rather not," Fred muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"Shall I go talk to her or should you?" It was a simple case of who would take the ultimate blame, which would be him. "And that would be a stupid question."
Turning on his heel he went to where the cute little couple were occupied. "Excuse me, cutting in. Mona, darling, you don't know me and you probably don't want to. But Sirs Gred and Forge are in need of your assistance. This way, please."
With a theatrical wave of his hand, he bid goodbye to George's son with a promise of returning his little girlfriend unharmed.