"You two have split up... haven't you?" he asked, his voice taking a more serious tone.
Richie stepped right up to him, a near snarl carved into her freckly face.
"Yes, we have, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! And don't let that fact bother you at all when you're with your cute little barmaid over there," she uttered sarcastically.
People close by had all started to look in their direction. Once again, he started to blush.
"Do as I say, not as I do," she commented, purposefully bumping into him as she stormed past, heading straight for the exit.
With a great many people staring at him, he stuck out like a sore thumb, that is until his knight in shining armour turned up and saved him... JANICE! Tucking one of her slender arms around his waist, she guided him off into a quiet corner. He was so relieved.
Once there, and with nobody paying them any attention at all, she leant up and gave him a lasting kiss, right on the mouth. Most of his worries vanished instantly. Deep down though, he was still troubled by Richie's actions. It was all so unlike her. Splitting up with Tim, if indeed that's what had happened, seemed to have had a profound effect on her, more so than he would ever have thought. Vowing to speak to Tank about it later on in the evening, Janice breaking off the kiss brought him sharply back to the present, and the beaming face that currently smiled up at him. Sitting down, she asked him about the hockey, pretending of course not to have seen any of it. Playing along, he tried to convey some of the match to her, in the most interesting way possible. It was then that he asked how her day had gone. Starting off with some of the mundane stuff, she then recounted the episode with the chairman, which caught his attention, as Andy had mentioned it earlier, albeit in a drunken ramble. Janice explained about the chairman's meltdown in front of everybody, going on to tell Peter about getting the key to the Astroturf from his office earlier that day. For his part, he listened intently, something inside him screaming out that it was important. Nodding in all the right places, wondering what on earth had got into the chairman, all of a sudden Janice mentioned the dark black box and all of the chairman's fuss around it. But what really got his attention was when she described the metal that she'd glimpsed momentarily inside the box. Her short description of how the metal appeared to shimmer and phase, with just a hint of rainbow colours, started alarm bells ringing deep inside Peter's head. Straight away he closed his eyes, reaching out to the floor above him, searching for anything untoward. Nothing. But he was unconvinced.
"When the chairman had his little... 'moment' in front of everybody," he asked, calmly, "was he carrying anything? Did he have that black box with him?"
Janice thought back, before replying.
"No."
A helpless feeling like he'd never felt before spread out from his gut, threatening to engulf him, given the chairman's known association with the evil dragon Manson's human persona. Janice could see the look of worry running across his usually cheerful face.
"What is it?" she whispered.
Thinking carefully about his response, he wondered what he should tell her. That he thought something odd might be going on because the chairman had something to do with a wanted criminal, who was in fact a dragon? And that the metal she'd caught a glimpse of is practically priceless in the underground world inhabited by millions of dragons, as well as potentially being lethal in the wrong hands?
Staring out of the window for what seemed like a small ice age, he tried to come up with a course of action, as the panic and tension inside him threatened to overwhelm him. Through the window, he looked directly out at the Astroturf he'd played on earlier, but instead of happy thoughts about hockey, all that came to him were the memories of the bonfire night when Manson had come within a whisker of killing him... the pain, the humiliation, the feelings of helplessness, knowing his friends were nearby but that he couldn't help them, and they couldn't help him.
Although he'd turned away from her, she could see something was desperately wrong. Perspiration trickled down the side of his neck, his breathing had become heavier and his face had taken on a pale and drawn appearance. The mere mention of the black box and the strange metal inside it had set the change in motion, so she decided to give him space and let him tell her in his own time, if indeed he wanted to. Wrapping her right arm around him, she snuggled up, joining him in gazing out of the window.
Her arm snaking around his waist and her head tucked neatly into his chest, slowed his heart considerably. Up until then, it had been racing full pelt at the thought of all the bad things that could be going on. But still that nagging sensation inside him hadn't gone away. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. But what to do? That was the question. And then his eye caught the slightest movement in the reflection of the glass. It was a strapping rugby player, halfway across the bar, blazer off, shirt and tie on, being cheered on to drink a pint of some horrible concoction down in one. A smile warmed his face, as part of the answer to his problem came to him... TANK!
Leaning forward, he whispered in Janice's ear.
"Do you have a key to the chairman's office?"
"No," she answered firmly. "There was a spare one behind the bar, but it's been missing for some time. The chairman's been promising to get a new one cut for weeks now, but never has, well... not to my knowledge anyway."
'Damn,' he thought. It would have been so much easier if Tank and I could have gone up there to take a look. Oh well, at least by telling Tank I'll be sharing the problem, and just maybe something will occur to him, that hasn't to me.'
Gripping Janice's hand, Peter turned to her.
"Would you do me a small favour and repeat to Tank everything you told me about the black box and the metal inside it?"
"Sure," she replied, all smiley.
"But let's try and do it in some place a bit more... private," he added, trying to pick Tank out of the rugby crowd.
Approaching, holding hands, Peter and Janice could both see Tank, all animated about something rugby related, his giant hands whipping through the air, whisking up vivid scenes of balls, tries and tackles, his dark blazer balanced precariously on the back of his chair, his white shirt was stained with beer, his tie dishevelled as though it had been pulled more times than a church bell. Both lovers waited patiently for Tank to finish explaining something from the game to one of the other coaches, before he politely nodded and took his leave. As Tank turned around, it was only then that Peter noticed the injuries to his face. Janice let out a squeaky little gasp.
"It's alright... I'm fine," he stated. "You should see the other guy!"
"And just where would he be?" asked Peter, more than a little concerned.
"In hospital, as a matter of fact. Broke quite a few bones in his hand, apparently," announced Tank, grinning from ear to ear, or at least trying to. With injuries to both eyes, his nose and lips, he looked like a cross between the Joker out of Batman, and Rocky after twelve rounds in the ring.
"So let me get this straight," exclaimed Peter, incredulously. "He broke his hand on your face?"
Chuckling to himself ever so slightly, Tank nodded.
Turning to Janice, Peter shrugged his shoulders and ventured,
"He's mad. Absolutely mad."
Smiling, Janice did the most unexpected thing. Walking up to Tank, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the chin.
"Well, I think he's very brave," she said, pulling away. The faces of both young dragons were a picture.
"So anyway, what exactly can I do for you both?" asked Tank, having recovered from the shock somewhat. "Gonna let me buy you both a beer, or have you come to buy me one?"