Riley laughs quietly at Jack's impression of a Southerner, clenching his mouth as tightly as possible so not to spit any beer out. It sounds eerily similar to one of his band mates. He finally lets his laughter out after swallowing his gulp of Heineken. "Mate, that was so much like Oscar it was scary. Lad's actually got a dog called Rupert. Rupert and Jasper." While he obviously loves Oscar like a brother, he's not the type of person he'd ever meet let alone associate with had he not been involved in the group. There's not much crossover between Beeston and Mayfair otherwise. Riley nods his head, seemingly in approval of North Shields. "Oh so you're north, north. Just up the A1. Nice. What's your team up there?" Riley asks with an arched eyebrow, ready to make a quip regardless of Jack's answer. Nothing like a playful football rivalry.

When Jack claims he thought Weekend were finished, he nods in agreement. Things have been quiet on the band front for a while so he can understand how many would think that. "Nah, we've actually got like an album's worth of stuff ready to go if we want to. Just been taking it in our stride. Billy's also got his own stuff going on. Not that you'd ever know. He's so low-key and humble, you know?" He playfully scoffs and brings the bottle back to his lips. Billy is many things but modest isn't one of them. "If you get your arse in gear and knock out a few more songs, there might be a little opening slot for you on the tour." Riley playfully teases but there's still some truth in it. They will need some support acts when the time comes after all.

He smiles and nods along as he listens to Jack talk about his ongoing recording sessions, almost feeling the excitement for him. "Yeah, that's the best way to be, mate. Take it in your stride and do what you want in the studio. Don't be afraid to come up with absolutely shit ideas as well. All part of the process. Just do what you do best and it should all piece together. Your wise about not being into all the hype. Congrats on the success, though. Number 1 debut? Even we didn't manage that. Not bitter at all." Riley jokingly scowls and furrows his brows before taking the final sip of his beer. Weekend's first ever release only managed to come in at #2. He looks at the table of finished and near-empty bottles, tapping merrily on the edge of the table. "You want to stick with these or move on to something with more edge?"

Riley purses his lips and nods along in agreement. They really are from different walks of life. Potentially Oscar and Billy aside, had it not been for the band, there's probably no other way these guys would ever cross paths. "Yeah, we're a mixed bag alright. Tipperary, London, Leeds...Scott's from Stoke-on-Trent. Who the fuck comes from Stoke-on-Trent?" Riley chuckles to himself. It's typical Scott behaviour. Scott's forever the butt of many black sheep jokes in the band. It's all done lovingly, of course. Scott can't even take part in the playful North/Side divide because of course he's from slap bang in the middle. "Yeah, Leeds United here. Top of the EFL..." Riley proudly taps on his chest with a clenched fist before lowering his already deep voice to a mutter, trying to cover his words through a pretend cough. "...after we got relegated."

When Jack brings up the infamous antics of the Weekend tour bus, Riley chuckles and begins to blush ever so slightly. He nervously scratches along his jawline, being caught bang to rights. "Yeah, was well chuffed when people started to blab about all that!" Riley jokingly rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. "I'm the embodiment of discretion, me. Walking NDA. Whatever happens on the road, stays on the road as far as I'm concerned." Riley laughs and holds his hands up as if surrendering any possible knowledge or judgement concerning touring antics. "To be fair though, doubt it's going to be anything like that this time around. We're getting on a bit. I'm 30 in July. Swear I was 17 just a handful of years ago." Riley curls his lip, looking absolutely disgusted at his own age. He feels it more as he's spent most of his life in a boy band aimed at a young market so hitting the big 3-0 is like having one foot in the grave for a teen idol.

"Think people gravitated towards your track because it's authentic and different. It's fresh stuff. Completely get why it took off like it did. Like I said, just keep on doing you. Just not too much, eh? Leave some room at the top for us too, lad." Riley playfully winks and stands up, tucking and adjusting the bottom of his shirt in the process. "Gonna bob into the toilet then I'll order us some freakishly artificially coloured drinks, what you think?" Riley shuffles around the side of table. "Don't worry, I promise to wash me hands." Riley snickers and gives Jack a pat on the shoulders as he scoots by.

Riley chuckles heartily with his arms folded, tickled by the notion of his team being the most universally hated among English football. "Mate, I get worried if I meet someone who doesn't hate us. I'm that used to it. Bloody certainty in life. Death, tax, and people hating Leeds." He laughs again, clearly not bothered by the eternal ribbing of his beloved team. "Leeds would be your side, eh? Flaming 'eck, you feeling alright? With Bielsa gone like you said, I can't think of any other way to entice you over to this side. I was born and bred into this. Me grandad's doing. There's nowt I can do!" Riley holds his hands up as if looking for salvation and surrendering to the fact that he's forever tied to the less than desirable team.

"Ey, me and Dustyn actually used to be in our school choirs...and no fucking wisecracks, you!" Riley jokingly warns with a pointed finger after swiftly realising the amount of ammo he's given Jack with sordid jokes about choirboys. Alongside Weekend's documented antics, there's a plenty a gag and double entendre to whip out. "Oh for sure, mate. It's early days yet so I've literally not got anything to give ya but would love to have you on the tour." Riley makes a point of sounding a little more serious through all the chortling to let Jack know he's true about his word and not at the wind up.

A few minutes later, Riley returns to the table with a tray adorned by some glasses of tequila and the fixings to turn them into the typical shot experience should they wish; some slices of citrus and a small ramekin of salt. "Ey up, here comes the good stuff!" Riley scoots back around into his seat after placing the tray on the centre of the table. "Forgive me for underestimating your refined palate earlier. I thought all you young'uns like all 'em multicoloured drinks. All those e-numbers to get you up nice and early for school, y'know?" Riley gives a playful wink and grabs a glass, half teasing Jack for being baby-faced and half mocking himself for staring 30 in the face. "To Bielsa!" Riley raises his glass.

"Bremner? Fucking 'ell, you and me both. I'm getting on a bit but even that was before my time. Always remember me grandad telling me all these stories about those glory days. Always seemed right magical and mythical to me. By today's standards, they bloody well are!" Riley laughs a little. It seems he had quite a bond with his grandfather growing up. When Jack has a jibe at all the modern haircuts, Riley scoffs and looks a little flustered, well aware his own hair is shaved from a fade around the sides. "This is just maintenance and convenience. Not vanity, y'know? Hair's real wiry. Got to keep it short." Riley purses his lips, trying his best to stifle his laughter. While there's truth as to why he always goes for a short look, it's not lost on him that he looks like a modern day pretty boy Leeds player. "What about your side? Ever want to go back and see the glory days of...eh, whatever century that last was?" Riley gives a sly smirk. "Nah, I remember growing up in the 90s and your lot were doing some great things."

"Just two good Catholic lads, me and our Dust." Riley gives a playful wink. If he hadn't had mentioned it, nobody would've guessed his religion. With the way he carries himself and all the stories and whispers of band shenanigans over the years, it's clear that Ri isn't devout or serious about his Catholicism. Like being unable to pick his team, it's just another one of those things that he grew up with. "Mate, when we first got on stage we looked like we'd been kicked through a bunch of high street clothes stores and embalmed with hairspray at the end of it. You're looking better than we ever did. You'll be fine." Riley gives Jack a reassuring before shrugging. "And if you see us all off stage and out of costume, you'll know all about rough around the edges."

Riley chuckles and completes the toast with Jack, knocking back the shot. The burn reaffirms that this is real drinking. Beer is for the casual pleasantries. Tequila is for a very well-earned day off. "Fucking 'ell, White Lightning. There's a memory unlocked." Riley audibly exhales through his lips and goes a little wide-eyed as war flashbacks infiltrate his mind. "Some very fond memories of being around the back of the library with some bottles of that. My mind's just a collage of fucking White Lightning bottles and knockoff Burberry caps now." Oh to be a teenager in 2000s Britain. "This a good enough substitute for you though, mate?" Riley chuckles as he goes for a second shot.

"Flying too close to the sun? That's a very poetic way to put things. I'll take that, mate!" Riley says with a light-hearted chuckle, surprised that someone actually seems to have a crumb of sympathy for Leeds United. At the mention of Mike Ashley, Riley audibly sucks air in through his teeth and shakes his head in disapproval. Although not a Newcastle supporter, Riley's also not a fan of the man for his overall sketchy character. "Oooft, Mike Ashley? Yeah, I think that tosser's possibly on par with Dirty Leeds in terms of being loathed. Possibly. Still, you can't complain about getting paid in oversized mugs. Those things are priceless, mate." Riley chuckles, referencing the infamous Sports Direct mugs which most people think of when the company is mentioned. Well, those and poor work conditions. "Nah, seriously though, good for you guys. Put the wind up that other lot." Riley grimaces, totally not bitter about the relegation. "So far, only Billy's mob are above you. If you finish above Tottenham, that's a cause for celebration!"

"Mate, some Google Image results are not fucking kind to me!" Riley laughs heartily, blushing slightly as he recalls the fashion trends of the early 2010's. "I think I dressed better before the band than I did for those first couple years, y'know? Stylists back then had a TopMan voucher and a dream." When Jack claims that he he's not much of a fashion expert, Riley gives his outfit a once over and finds it to be rather trendy. "Nah, mate. You're looking good! Definitely works for ya. I'm sure Primark will be knocking your door down for a sponsorship any day!" Riley laughs and playfully pats Jack's arm.

After necking another shot, Riley nods along in agreement as Jack recalls how people looked down up the Northern youth as they grew up. Although he's been making his own way in the world for over a decade now, it still all seems like yesterday and that Beeston childhood is still innate within Riley. "Yeah, and I feel like there's less integrity behind it all today. Lot of it's just for fucking show and Brownie points. World's lost a lot of heart." Riley places his empty glass down on the table and scoffs. "Listen to me! Now I'm the one that's soft as shite. It's the booze!"

"Ah, shame. I was going to get one of those mugs for Christmas. Maybe throw in a cheeky Sports Direct voucher as well." Riley chuckles and his laughter only amplifies when Jack has a dig at Billy's beloved team. "Oh mate, I'd pay good money to watch you say that to his face." Riley continues laughing at the thought. Billy's definitely the most zealous when it comes to defending his team and can only imagine the back and forth between the Newcastle and Spurs fan. "Oscar's a Chelsea fan so you can imagine the debates. Still, glad it's not Arsenal. Doubt they'd ever be able to stay in the same bloody room as each other!" Billy and Oscar's relationship has always been a tad rocky so it's a very slight saving grace that they aren't direct rivals.

Riley exhales, feeling exasperated on behalf of the people who used to work around them back in the day. "Yeah, that couldn't have been an easy job. We're tame compared to then. It was utter carnage back in the day. We were a bunch of little shits. Well, not me. Fucking angel, me." Riley cups the bottom of his face and smiles, trying his utmost best to look as angelic and innocent as possible. The gruff accent really cements the image. "You think you'd take up anything like that?" Riley gets the impression that Jack's solely in this for the music and is curious about his take on sponsorships.

"Absolutely. Absolutely." Riley nods along as Jack expresses his opinion on Labour and the current situation in the UK. He couldn't agree more. "Same here, mate. Always been Labour through and through but it's a sad state of affairs these days. It's all self-serving and ego-stroking. Nobody gives a shit about us." Despite his celebrity status, Riley has always kept his feet firmly in the real world and hasn't become one of those who thinks they're above everyone else. He's in the same boat. "Mate, I think we both need to make a phone call. You heard us?" Riley laughs at how they're putting the world to rights but is enjoying the fact he's finding a kindred spirit in Jack. It's comforting finding someone who holds the same sentiments in this day and age. "World's lost heart but you seem like a good lad. There's hope for you Gen Z lot after all." Riley gives a sly wink, knowing Jack will hate being tied in with that generation.

"Christ, this is going down well." Riley throws back another shot, growing merrier and slightly more flushed in the cheeks.

"Yeah, Oscar's Chelsea, Billy is Spurs through and through, Dusty...I don't think he could give less of a shit. Then you've got Scott who supports Stoke City. Go figure." Riley chuckles, filling in the rest of the blanks for Jack. They truly are a whole mixed bag of lads. "Mate, I think that was one of the very first conversations those two ever had. If you can even call it a conversation. Oscar's being all Oscar; "So, what team is it you support?". Billy's sprawled across an armchair in his hoodie and just goes; "Spurs. You?". When Oscar tells him he's a Chelsea fan, Billy just sighs, shoves his hood up and stares up the ceiling. Pretty much set the tone for the next few years." Riley loudly laughs, finding great entertainment in the petty back and forth that goes on between the pair.

"So true, bud. I was the nicest one. Some of the other lads were fucking...headcases is the best way to put it. Comparing myself to them, I thought I was nice as pie but if I really think about it? Yeahhhh I was still a bit of a twat. I just managed to keep it out of the papers." Riley gives a knowing wink. The music industry back in the early 2010's was quite something and he has many stories to tell. "Totally get you." Riley nods in agreement as Jack gives his stance on sponsorships. "Especially the free stuff. It's bizarre the more money someone has, the less they have to pay for shit. The mind fucking boggles." Riley grabs another shot. "Sometimes, you do get good opportunities. I've got a whole collaboration with Hugo Boss going on but all proceeds go to a homeless youth charity. It's rare but sometimes you get really great opportunities. Then you get emails from a company that wants you to promote weight loss teas that make you shit lava." Riley laughs and throws back is shot.

Riley furrows his eyebrows at the mere mention of the Tory party. He's definitely still a working class Northern lad at heart. "Mate, it's fucking depressing. Will never vote for one party, can no longer support my main one, then there's the guilty feeling about throwing your vote away. You ever get the urge to just piss off to another planet for a bit?" Riley snickers and then gives Jack a reassuring smile after jibing him for his age. "Ah, don't worry about it. I'm jealous if anything. In boyband years, I'm practically fucking dead!" Riley laughs and goes for another tequila, noticing the drinks are dwindling in numbers. "Fancy more of these?"

"RILEY! RILEY!" Shrill shrieks of an overly excited young woman blasts through the vicinity, achieving a level of volume that allows her to be heard clearly over the booming music. As the night has rolled on, the number of patrons has increased and most of them are also heavily intoxicated. The anonymity and personal space that Riley and Jack were granted earlier has been rapidly crumbling with each passing round of drinks. On his return from the bathroom, Riley finds himself ambushed by a heavily made up, scantily clad and drunken young woman sporting a tan that's clearly not natural for this time of year in the UK. The jet black haired girl teeters over towards Riley, phone at the ready for a famous selfie. Her friend, a rather tall redheaded girl with perfectly formed ringlets, remains quiet and reserved but still floats around to take part in this experience. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Could I get a picture? Oh my God!". The overzealous girl already has her camera opened and ready to go regardless of Riley's answer.

"Of course you can!" Riley cheerily smiles and slips into professional mode despite being rather squiffy from all the Tequila. He tilts a little to fit into the picture with the fan as, despite her being in heels, Riley's 6'1" stature towers over her. He happily poses for the photograph, smiling away despite the inconvenience and knowing that Jack is sitting a mere 10 feet away, probably ready to take the piss upon his return.

"THANK YOU! OH MY GOD! I LOVE YOU!" the girl looks practically close to hyperventilating, fanning her face as if trying to hold back drunken tears of joy.

Riley chuckles at the dramatic reaction before turning his attention to the girl's more timid friend. "Come on you, bring it in." Riley smiles and gestures her over with an open arm. He was well aware that she also wanted a picture but didn't have the brazenness to ask unlike her bestie. Sweetly smiling, she gingerly walks over and Riley also takes a picture with her. Meanwhile, the loud girl appears to be recording the interaction. "Thank you ladies. Have a nice night." Riley grins, making sure to be as gracious as possible but also letting it be known that he's not hanging around.

Back at the table, he sits down across from Jack and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Think the most difficult part is trying to keep your eyes up front." Riley doesn't need to give further details as they both know he's referring to the first girl's extremely lowcut dress and exaggerated cleavage. One wrong move and she could be on an indecent exposure charge. Riley laughs and necks another shot. "Sorry about that, mate. Bet your arse is numb being sat here. Had a few others want some pictures on my way back. Swear I weren't up to owt in the toilet." Riley chuckles, sounding the tiniest bit slurred. He'd been away from the table for quite some time and as the place got busier, trips to the bathroom and bar grew more difficult. "Did I miss much when I was on my expedition? Man United crash and burn off the face of the Earth yet?" Riley laughs and folds his arms, relaxing back into the booth but is soon alerted by that blaring voice again.

"JACK!! JACK! MY MATE THINKS YOU'RE FIT!!" Riley's drunken admirer calls from across the way, pointing at and embarrassing her friend who looks like she just wants the ground to open and swallow her up.

Riley raises an eyebrow and gives Jack a sly smirk. "Oof, you got an admirer, mate. Want me to leave you to it?" He heartily laughs before pulling out his phone. Checking the time and realising it's already gone midnight, Riley looks up and surveys the heaving bar. Weighing up their options, he figures that the Devil's Playground has probably given them both all it can offer tonight. The clientele are only growing more boisterous and while that's usually part of the fun, as a public figure, it just means harassment. "Mate, do you want to just stay at mine for the night? I've got the room and the booze. Can also hear yourself think as well." Riley pauses and then glances back over towards the gaggle of girls. A smirk slowly spreads across his face. "Though if you think you're on to a promise, I can make myself scarce."

Riley titters as he briefly glances back over towards the adoring fans and heaving London nightlife crowd, taking in just how crowded the place has become. "Ah, it's a mission and a half alright but can't really complain. Most folk are lovely and sometimes when I feel a little...inconvenienced, shall we say...I just remind myself that they're showing support and I wouldn't be able to afford places like this if it weren't for them." Riley smiles warmly, thinking about how much his life has changed over the last decade as he securely slips his phone back into his pocket. "Course, you still get the odd twat." Riley laughs and shakes his head, mentally recalling the occasions where some wise guys have tried to take pops at him for being in a boy band. "115 and counting, lad. I'm sure there's more to be found on that lot. Let's just sit tight." Riley chuckles and begins to slip his jacket back on. While United are his main rivals, he's not opposed to City getting chucked in the bin either.

When Jack claims that he'd normally be over there in a flash, Riley slowly nods in agreement. He remembers those days and that freedom all too well. Listening to Jack talk about all the new boundaries he's facing, Riley's heart goes out to him. Not even full on dating but casual encounters and just plain socialising with new people is always a minefield. Never know how it's going to be perceived or who's going to say what to Culture Uncut. "Yeah, mate, it can be difficult to navigate. What I think is that if you're a good lad and you're confident in that knowledge, then you should try make the most of an opportunity. Can't be a hermit and deny yourself human contact, or even just human company forever. People might talk, yeah. That bit is shit but if you're not an absolute weirdo who's into bizarre, seedy stuff then there's no need to worry about the chatter. People meet people in bars and clubs all the time. Not a crime, pal." Riley begins to put his empty shot glasses back on the tray so that the staff have less work to do. He continues chatting away as he tidies. "And, not to sound skeezy, but you're a handsome lad who's just got a #1 single so best prepare for more of that sort of attention being flung your way!"

Riley gets to his feet and adjusts his jacket, snickering as Jack questions how Weekend coped back in the day as horny teenagers. "We didn't! You've heard of the tour bus stories!" Riley laughs and shuffles out from behind the table. "We kind of learned the hard way, for lack of better phrase. Of course, I was an angel, but Billy and Oscar were out shagging everything with a pulse. We all got our knuckles rapped from management back then when things leaked to the press. Learned to tone it down a bit. Just a bit." Riley watches as Jack gestures over towards the girls, a little surprised but happy to see that he's not totally intimidated by this new found fame. "Ey up, someone's eager..."

The duo of girls teeter over, the darkhaired one leading the way as usual while her more demure and seemingly more sober friend gingerly follows her lead.

"Hiya, Jack! Oh my God, my mate Madison thinks you're so fit!" The girl with the ill-fitted dress bellows while Madison turns all shades of pink in the background.

"Carly, oh my gosh..." Madison cups the side of her face, clearly embarrassed but not so much as to knock the huge gleaming smile off her face.

Riley laughs softly, recalling many heated past encounters when Jack asks him if he's ever gotten into it with an aggressor. "Mate, Billy was the man for that. Still is. Doesn't have time for any bullshit." Although Billy is much friendlier than his media persona would lead people to believe, he still has a lot of edge and wouldn't think twice about putting someone in their place. "I'm much more placid, me. When people start, I just take the high road and try to ignore them. Only causes more attention and you wind up looking like the bad guy anyway since stories are spun in all directions. Only ever snapped at someone once. Was a photographer who just wasn't taking no for an answer. Kept pushing at us, getting in our way, sticking his camera in our faces. The pap ended up knocking Dust on his arse and I gave him what for. You've seen the height and frame of Dustyn. There's nothing to the lad." Despite coming from a rough background, Riley has a very chilled and pleasant demeanour. Causing physical harm to one of his best friends is where he draws the line, however.

"In a way, I've been lucky that the press sort of made a beeline for Dustyn and Billy instead. Poor lads have been like catnip to the papers. I've still had some stories written about me but I've managed to have a healthy balance of being saint and sinner without too much interference." Riley snickers and then tries to lighten his take on things so not to terrify newcomer Jack in regards to what could potentially be heading his way. "At the end of the day, it's all just sexless saddos writing for The Sun and Daily Mail. Fodder to make their own lives a little more exciting. Believe me, I'd much rather be on Dan Wootton's mind at night than the other way around." Riley laughs and gives Jack a playful pat on the shoulders before sending him off to his adoring public.

Madison smiles and blushes slightly, clearly not used to the spotlight and attention. "I'm from Bristol." Her accent becomes rather apparent when she actually is given airtime to talk. "I'm studying at the Imperial College here so...I'm a London gal for the next couple years."

"I'm just here to see my girl for the weekend. Too thick for university and all that, I am." Carly interjects before sucking the remnants of an unnaturally green concoction up through a straw.

Madison giggles at her vivacious friend then turns her attention back to Jack. "I'm sorry about Carly's comment earlier. Oh my gosh, I'm so embarrassed! It really is lovely to meet you though. I think you're great!"

"He's not bad, I suppose." Riley chimes in, giving Jack a pat on the back.