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The lights in Tons o' Buns are off and the chairs are stacked neatly on top of the small marble tables, but Louis pulls on the door handle and huffs when he finds it locked.
"Harold!" He shouts as he knocks his fist against the glass.
"Relax, bro," says Zayn, who's suddenly standing next to Louis. "He probably never expected you to show up on time."
"For your information I'm 10 minutes late, not that you should talk," Louis says, craning his neck to see past the darkened counter inside. "Where is everyone?"
As if answering the question, a light turns on and Harry ambles toward them, taking his time unlocking the door and smirking at Louis when he fidgets impatiently.
"Niall and Liam are already here," Harry says slowly, stepping aside to let Louis and Zayn pass. He bats Louis' hand away when he goes to twist his nipple.
"What's left for us tonight" Zayn asks as they trail behind Louis into the storage room in the back.
"There were some turnovers," Harry says thoughtfully, "and some biscuits. I think Niall ate the crumpets already."
"Dammit, Neil!" Louis shouts, as he tosses his jacket on a pile of flour sacks.
"Shoulda got here on time," Niall says, his mouth full.
"I don't even want to be here," Liam, who's sitting on the lumpy couch says, "and I still managed not to be late.”
"Sorry that Zayn and I are teachers with a responsibility to our country's youth," Louis replies haughtily.
"Zayn was probably smoking with those science teachers who make bongs out of old lab equipment," Liam says pointedly, before shooting Zayn an apologetic glance. Zayn just shrugs. “And I don’t even want to know why you’re late, probably did something to my flat.” Louis smirks at this.
"There's also fruit," Harry says, though the others ignore him, picking through the pile of leftover sweets. "This isn't a proper meal," he mumbles, pouting theatrically.
"Neither is wheat grass, Harold, but you don't seem to mind eating that," Louis teases.
"We should get started," Liam says. Harry scrunches up his face and pouts in Louis' direction.
"Since when are you so desperate to do improv, Li?" Niall says, his feet kicked up on a folding chair.
"I'm not, but since I'm already here let’s get on with it," Liam sighs.
"Ok, everyone get in a circle," Harry says, herding them until they’re standing haphazardly in a circle in the storage room of Tons o' Buns, a room he's only allowed to use for rehearsal because he keeps it clean and even though she won't admit it, his boss thinks Niall is fit.
"Zip!" Harry shouts, pointing at Liam.
"Zap," Liam says and points at Louis.
"Harry this is stupid, why can't we just start?" Louis says, hand on his cocked hip.
"Because we're supposed to develop group mind," Harry says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I can't speak for the group," Louis says, "but I certainly mind."
Niall and Liam laugh, Zayn seems to not have been listening, but Harry pushes his lower lip out theatrically until Louis relents and points at Zayn and says "Zop," in his best monotone.
Harry leads them through two more warm-ups, the first called Pass The Clap, which sets them all off giggling and then a round of musical hot spot which they all get into eventually, singing in the middle of the circle until someone else taps them out and begins a new song.
Finally Harry relents and lets Louis start a run of scenes. At first it's mostly him and Harry, but after a few minutes Niall joins in and by the end they're all getting involved.
Niall uses almost every accent he can think of, while Harry is extremely physical, doing several pratfalls and a few real falls. Zayn falls into his role as the straight man, letting the others bounce off him and subtley setting up their punchlines. Liam gets particularly invested in good mime, which Hardy tells him is called 'object work.' He spends one scene meticulously miming making an omelette while Louis screams at him that he's stuck in a bear trap.
Their energy starts to flag around half nine and Liam suggests they call it a night. Louis objects at first, but relents when Niall suggests they go for a pint.
On their second round at the pub Louis bangs his hand on the table and orders, "Give me the name of an object, please!"
Liam bites his lips in concentration and says, "A rock."
"A rock, Liam?" Louis says fondly.
"It's an object," Liam says, shrugging.
"It's also an actor,” Harry says. “And a musical genre.”
"Ok, ok!" Louis says then thinks thoughtfully for a moment. "One hundred and eighty five rocks walk into a bar and the bartender says, 'I'm sorry, but we don't serve rocks here,' and the rocks say, 'I had no idea this was such a hard place to get into.'"
Zayn groans, while Harry and Niall laugh loudly. Liam’s face breaks into a wide grin. "A rock and a hard place! Nice one, Lou."
"I've got one!" Harry announces. "One hundred and eighty five rocks walk into a bar and the bartender says he doesn't serve rocks and the rocks say, 'We don't mind, we're going to order chips.'"
Another round of laughs and groans follow. Zayn clears his throat and they all look at him expectantly. "So the bartender says, we don't serve rocks here and the rocks look sad and say, 'But we only wanted some beer,' and the bartender says, "I can't serve you pints, but maybe some Quartz?"
They keep playing, telling the same joke over and over, making up new punchlines on the spot based on the suggestions they throw out at each other.
"Where'd you find all these games, Haz?" Niall asks.
"Just googled improv and this all came up," Harry shrugs.
"I still think if we're gonna do this we should get a proper director," Liam says, not for the first time.
"Pfffffttttt." Louis rolls his eyes and tweaks Liam's side. "That'd take the fun out of it."
"I dunno, bro," Zayn ponders out loud, picking at the label on his bottle. "Maybe we could be more serious and actually book a show?"
"Ohhh! Let's do it!" Niall exclaim, his cheeks flushed. "Bressie said the backroom at his pub is free on Tuesday nights ever since the karaoke machine got rained on."
"C'mon, Lou!" Harry says, fluttering his eyelashes. "Are you afraid audiences will love you too much?"
Louis looks excited, but hesitates, looking at Zayn, who sighs but nods his head. "Ok, let's do it!" He exclaims, slamming his pint glass on the table, "but that means we need a name."
"I have a name!" Says Harry and his voice is slow and syrupy, after the few beers he's had. "We'll be called You Ok Bun?" Everyone stares at him. "You know, like You Ok Hon, but bun because we practice in a bakery?"
"No," Liam says.
"Absolutely not," Louis agrees.
Zayn just shakes his head and Niall laughs but says, "Yer such an idiot."
"You're meant to say, Yes And to ideas," Harry says and crosses his arms.
Liam rubs his back soothingly. "You can come up with the name, just maybe no-"
"No baking puns!" Louis interrupts. His face falls a little when he sees that Harry is still slumped in his seat looking genuinely sad. “Oi, did you hear the limerick about the boy from Cheshire?”
The boys all look at him a little confused, but he just rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe you’ve never heard it.” He thinks for a second and then recites seriously,
“There one was a young lad named Harry
Who was light on his feet like a fairy
His buns he would bake
and his bum he would shake
and we loved him so much it was scary.”
Harry preens and Niall lifts his glass to toast the rest of them with the last of their pints.
“To whatever we’re called! I just texted Bressie and we have a show next week.”