It had been George's night to lock up, and he put up the last few fallen boxes and the like to reshelve, and put up the cash for the day in their safe box. (Which was a lot more fun than stocking. Then he got to look at all their money.)
When he'd finished, he made his way upstairs, stopping when he heard Fred talking and then realizing who he was speaking to, coming to stand next to his twin. "Hey, Perce," he greeted, eying the bottle of whiskey. They'd had their own, but neither he or Fred had very expensive tastes when it came to booze. It all did the same job, anyway in George's mind. "Food AND drinks. Must have been afraid we'd slip something in it if we had the booze, eh?"