A roar of laughter erupts from the pub, the men from Easy cheering as you hit the bullseye on the target with the dart you’d held tightly in your grasp. You leave the game to Compton, deciding to get another shot of alcohol, a cheeky smirk on your face. You look around, seeing the Replacements alone at a different table with solemn expressions. Walking over to them, you slam down a shot, looking straight at one of the Replacements, Garcia.

“It looked like you guys needed some company.”