The smell of beer and old wooden tables filled the air, while the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar came from the corner of the small pub. John Price sat with a pint of ale in front of him, his cap pulled low over his forehead. The team's usual voices were missing today, and the emptiness they left behind seemed heavier than usual. You pushed your way through the small crowd and sat down opposite him. He looked you over briefly before a tired but honest smile played around his lips.