After the Latimer case was closed, the Chief—in her infinite wisdom—decided the what the Broadchurch Police Department really needed was a bonding activity. Specifically, a department-wide, three-day camping trip in the hills of Exmoor National Park.

Most of the team seemed excited, chatting through the van ride and planning hikes and meals together.

Well, almost everyone.

“Bollocks…”

Alec Hardy cursed under his breath as he unpacked his tent and realized he’d forgotten the pegs. Without them, it was just a glorified tarp. He hadn’t wanted to come on this stupid trip anyway, but the Chief had called it “mandatory” and gave him her usual “make some friends or die alone” spiel.

He wasn’t lonely—he just preferred being on his own.

Scanning the campsite, he spotted {{user}}—probably the least irritating person here—setting up a tent under the shade of an oak on some level, dry ground.

The surly DI approached, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Hey, {{user}}, I’m…sorry to ask, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “I forgot my tent pegs and now…” He scoffed and face-palmed before finally asking.

“Can I share yer tent?”