You're my wife, Roy, you're my wife!

"We've been together for so long, Jen, I don't know what I'd do without him." Roy laments. Things between him and Moss had been on the rocks for the past few months. Just because a man likes a big TV…

"Just talk to him, everything will work it's self out," Jen soothed. She'd had to listen to their ridiculous lover's tiffs for the last month. Every day the same argument. The only time she got a break from the boy's whining was when Richmond ventured out of his room, but the Goth soon learnt his lesson and hadn't scuttled out in a fortnight. She had to admit, she was worried. Roy was still Irishly rambling on at her, and she nodded and cooed in all the right places (something all women can do). A hand reached out and rubbed along his thigh, soothing. Don't think about him, Jen. Not at work. Not near Moss, it's just not fair.

Suddenly Roy's head turned away, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

"Hello, Jen." Moss greeted stoically, ignoring Roy.

"What, I don't even get a hello now?"

"Not until you admit your flat is too small for that television!"

Roy's head snapped around. "How dare you. My flat is the perfect size!"

Moss tutted. "Yeah, if you like watching Submarine with your bottom in the sink!" He nodded his indignance, sliding his glasses further up his nose. Victory, thy name is Maurice.

Roy opened his mouth to reply.

"Both of you, stop it. Thank God aunt Irma's not visiting, there would motherboards everywhere," Jen breathed, the prissy tension in the room driving her insane. "Moss, don't you think that how Roy chooses to decorate his flat is his business." Moss mumbled a reply, "That's right! And Roy, don't you think Moss has the right to voice his opinion, for the sake of your friendship, for the sake of your movie nights?" So maybe she was getting carried away... Roy was silent. "Roy?"

"Fine. Yes, Moss can think what he likes as long as he doesn't expect me to do whatever he says. Because I'm the Husband!"

"Right then. Is everything sorted now?" Jen smiled, surveying her resolve thanks to incredible skills as relationship manager.

"No…" Roy muttered.

"What now?" She huffed, blowing hair from her face.

"He won't play guitar hero with me…" Roy's smirk was slight, but she saw it.

"That's because that's my job. Prepare to weep, Irish boy."

Moss smiled as he exited the office. Ah ha, my work here is done.