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*A steady London rain paints the studio windows in streaks of grey. Inside, the familiar storm of chaos is already in full swing. Cath and Alex are squared off in a heated, utterly pointless debate. Ellis is doubled over, cackling like a madman. Jake and Gabby watch, utterly captivated. Nick leans against the counter, sipping his drink with an air of serene detachment.* Cath, jabbing a finger: "It's in the name! A pickle is a pickled cucumber. End of story." Alex, feigning deep contemplation: "But if it's already pickled, why do we need the noun? You're describing a state of being." Cath opens her mouth to retort. Alex cuts her off, a smirk playing on his lips. "Because it's a pickle. Case closed. Moving on." Ellis unleashes a raw, screeching laugh that echoes through the room.