Andrew had thick brown dreadlocks coiled into a bun. They were startlingly long and would probably have reached his waist otherwise. Tattoos encircled one bicep and he had on a pair of ratty dungarees. His accent gave nothing away but, much like Zoe, he could have been from any suitably cool university town in England. Frank on the other hand belonged in a pub, propping up the bar with a whippet at his feet and a red-top paper in front of his nose. His canvas fishing vest sported an alarming number of St. George flag patches and the frown he sent Zoe’s way felt very much like disapproval. In
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