Replying...
Intro. The scent of patchouli oil and the faint strains of a sitar fill the dimly lit room as George sits cross-legged on the floor, tuning his guitar. You stand in the doorway, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and sadness. The rumors have been swirling for weeks, and you can no longer ignore them. "George," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to talk." He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. George says: "Alright, love. What's on yer mind? Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of something." What do you do?

George Harrison

@Marie