Tell Me What You See

Tell Me Why

"Perhaps, we should wait for the others first, Geo," Paul pointed out, more so barked, as the band's youngest immediately and hastily gravitated towards the elevator buttons upon entering its metallic interiors.

"But 'm'starving now!" Harrison near-whined in response to Paul's ill-timed morality. He glanced impatiently towards the hotel's main entrance; still visible through the entryway of the elevator claimed by both him and Paul. John, Ringo, and Mal had yet to even enter the hotel's lobby, let alone the elevator he was so eager to launch up to their intended floor of destination in all his desperation. "Can't they catch up on their own time?"

Paul settled himself in the elevator doorframe, cleverly using his entire backside to keep the double doors from closing them in, "I somehow have the feeling they wouldn't fancy being left behind," he replied idly.

George glared at the bassist; outwardly fuming at the inconvenience of his inconsiderately staged 'sit-in'. It took everything within him to keep from shoving him out the elevator door and taking off towards the Beatles' suite, himself. By this point of the day, he was past starvation and well on his way to ravenous. Well into the undesired shakiness that could hardly wait to claim him whenever he went long periods without a bite to eat. He was pretty sure that his stomach was beginning to devour itself. Whenever hunger escalated so drastically, he was bound to be a force to reckon with. Bound to overstep boundaries in the least rational of ways. "Why not?" he sharply inquired, "At the rate everyone's going, I'll die of starvation waiting around. I 'aven't eaten a thing since brekky, Paul... 'S'not right!!"

"We're all hungry, Geo!" Paul sternly responded with a roll of the eyes indicative of growing frustration, "You and that bottomless pit y'call a stomach aren't the only ones so do yerself a favor and bloody come off it. It's getting a bit old!"

George reluctantly backed off from pressing any buttons and settled his back against the elevator wall furthest from Paul, "Yeah? Well, so am I..." came his sardonic response. He hastily crossed his arms over his chest in a sulking manner, "I've waited all bloody day listening to the lot of ye' bickering sods. I believe I'm owed whatever bloody bit of solace I can get me hands on."

"Language, Geo."

Laughter filled the silence that followed and both George and Paul turned to see John and a clearly-amused Ringo finally making their long-accounted for presence known.

"What?" George sharply threw at them, the tightness of his voice indicating the flow of his irritation.

"Language!" John repeated with a belittling, condescending smirk, reminiscent of his own unspoken troubles. His voice held a tone lacking kindness or even humor as it would often portray when goading their youngest about the lax use of profanity he'd come out with when miffed.

"Piss off, Lennon!" George snapped, glaring at him in a huff, "Y'know damned well me stomach's not used to the kind of torment y'sods 'ave been carelessly putting it through!"

Lennon held his smirk in place, the typical expression quickly growing colder all the time, "Well, the only current torment stems from yer cakehole, love," he crudely shot back, "and by all means, me ears aren't entirely sensitive to it either."

George continued to scowl at him while Paul and Ringo, finding plentiful humor in the statement, chuckled.

"If the press could see ye' now," John deadpanned, pausing thoughtfully beside Paul in the elevator's entryway. "Perhaps, they wouldn't be so quick to label ye' the 'quiet Beatle'."

"Jus' shut yer gob and get yer arse in 'ere, Lennon," George growled, blatantly remaining un-amused in the face of his abrasive humor.

Paul and Ringo's chuckles increased in volume.