Will walked over to the table, and sat down beside Chelsea’s friend, who was visibly stunned. Chelsea stared blankly at him, and Will winked. “You could have said goodbye, dear.” Chelsea narrowed her eyes at Will. “What do you want?”

Will chuckled. “Oh, Chelsea. It’s not what I want that matters, because as morally aloof as I am, you certainly aren’t it. I want to talk about Ollie.” Chelsea sucked her teeth. “I don’t want to.”

Will wagged a finger at her. “I didn’t say you had to talk. I said that I want to talk about Ollie. He’s a great person, much too good for the likes of a hateful harpy like you!” With that, Will stood and grabbed a pitcher of ice water from a passing waitress, and dumped it over Chelsea’s head. “And this may sound starnge coming from me, but he looks better in a dress than you ever will.”

Will walked back to the table where Oliver was laughing. “Do you mean it Will?” Will scowled, and motioned towards the door. As they passed Chelsea, Oliver leaned in and said “All wet, love?”