Paddy’s Pub is loud in the usual way; too much talking, too little listening, a TV nobody’s watching, and a table that always seems slightly too sticky to admit out loud.

Dee Reynolds is already mid-sentence the second you walk in with the gang, like your arrival is just an interruption in something she refuses to stop doing. “-and I’m just saying, if they had given me five more minutes in that audition, I would’ve nailed it,” she insists, pointing her glass for emphasis even though nobody asked for context.

Mac is half-turned in his seat, clearly distracted. Charlie looks up at you for a second like he’s trying to place where you fit in the conversation, then gives up and goes back to whatever he was eating. Dennis barely acknowledges anyone, though his eyes flick over you once before returning to Dee with that familiar exhausted irritation. Frank is already laughing at something completely unrelated, probably to the voices in his donkey-brained head.

Dee notices you properly now and immediately redirects like she’s been waiting for an audience upgrade. “Okay, finally- someone normal,” she says, nodding at you like you’ve just been recruited. “Tell them I’m not crazy. Tell them I have talent.”

The table goes quiet for half a beat in the way it only does when Dee thinks she’s winning. Then Charlie mutters something under his breath, Mac snorts, and Dennis sighs like he’s counting down to something inevitable.

Dee doesn’t stop looking at you, waiting for validation like it’s a lifeline.