Chapter Text
Jack's flat is actually quite nice. It is quite impressive how any remnants of a woman's touch have been eradicated with a vengeance. It reeks of bachelorhood and curry takeout and Nancy is not in a particular hurry to change that. She is dreadfully jealous of his hideous but extremely comfortable sofa.
"So do you actually like Spag Bol or was that a lie too?"
Nancy debates if she can just asphyxiate herself with the overly stuffed sofa cushions. Instead, she closes her laptop. "Why would I lie about pasta?"
Jack throws an apron around his neck. "Sound good for supper?"
Nancy glances at the time on the telly. "Yeah, but not for tonight."
Jack pauses tying his apron strings. "Why?"
"Because it's nearly half past eight and I would like to eat tonight."
Jack shrugs. "It will take 30 minutes."
"You can't make Spaghetti Bolognese in 30 minutes."
Jack looks at her with that squinty face that he gets when he's trying to tell if the milk has gone off. "Really?"
"Well, you can," Nancy concedes, "But it's not going to be good."
"Oh? And you're the Spag Bol expert now?"
Nancy clasps her hands together. "If you think you can make a decent Spag Bol in 30 minutes then I guess I am."
"Oh, we'll see about that."
"I guess we will."
And that's how the Spag Bol-Off of 2016 started.