"Good work," his friend said as he held up a pint, "With the wee people and all."
He sighed. "It won't make a quid I'm afraid."
"It's not all about that," his friend waved his hand. "It's when you get an idea," he pointed to his head, "You have to put it down on paper. I've got one keeping me up at night now as it is."
He smirked. "Alright Clive let's hear it," he gripped his pint in anticipation.
"Nah," he crossed his large irish arms, "You wouldn't be interested."
"I've got to hear it now you brought it up," he probed.
"It's about witches and dwarves that sort of thing. Nothing as grand as yours."
He spit out his beer. "Dwarves?" He exclaimed.
"Ha, don't get all upset. It's nothing like your story. Mine has a lion and set in modern times. I was up so late writing I put St. Nicholas in it. I don't know if I'll keep him." he thought outloud.
"It better not have elves," he warned jokingly. "I know a lawyer."
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