Jamie clears his throat. “How long you in Manchester for then, Ole?”

Ole pulls himself back to look at Gary questioningly, but at his shrug he turns to Jamie and says “er, I dunno... couple more days, probably. Still got a bit of filming to do for the treble thing, don't we?”

“Right,” Gary agrees. “And you promised you'd come to the Salford game this weekend—”

“—Did I fuck.”

“You did, so you have to stay at least 'til then.”

Ole’s face twists into a poor attempt at looking annoyed, which Gary ignores to reach up and pinch his cheek and which Roy sees right through. Poor lad, he loses all sense of self-preservation when he’s around Gary. Always has.

“I’ll try make it to that one too,” Roy says. He’s not sure if he will have to intervene, but he figures there’s no harm in hanging around, just in case he does. “The rest of the week, though, you gonna buy me a coffee? Or is your schedule too packed out with –” he darts his eyes to Gary – “other things.”

At his side, Jamie snorts, elbowing him to show his appreciation.

Gary throws his head back and laughs. “Jesus Christ, you people make out like I’m some kind of sex fiend.”

“No,” Jamie says, all exaggerated-like. “We’d never say that, you’re just a regular old slag.”

“And proud of it, Carra,” Gary says with a wink. He turns back to look at Ole, beaming, and gives him a pat on the chest. “That said, love, I’m all yours for the week. Got meetings for most of tomorrow morning to be fair, but after that –”

“Tomorrow morning it is!” Ole says quickly. “Just text me Roy, yeah?”

Roy nods in acknowledgement, then watches as Gary extracts himself from Ole’s arms and takes his hand instead, starts gently tugging him towards the door.

“Chill out, Gaz, I’m comin’,” Ole complains, but there’s far too much fondness in his eyes. He gives Roy a shrug like what can you do? and adds “anyway, good to see you all, I –”

“—Bye,” Gary says pointedly.