It was a late Saturday night at Steve’s house, and the Party was there at the table, bickering as they played DnD. Eddie was there, being the dramatic dungeon master, while the other laughed and bantered. Steve, Jonathan, and the other older kids were on the couch, sipping beers. Billy didn’t know where he fit in, so he just sat in a chair awkwardly, occasionally taking a drag from his cigarette. He coughed, his throat and body still sore from the Mind Flayer being violently expelled from him. It had been a rough few weeks.

“You good, Hargrove?,” Steve asked.