“Maybe you’ll pull at the Vibe on Wednesday,” Kyrone said.
“If you’re that desperate formeat, maybe you shouldn’t have left so early,” Tyler pointed out.
“You left early?” Callum asked quietly.
Dylan shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling it. The atmosphere wasn’t as good as it normally is.”
Callum’s lips pinched together, and he stared at the table.
“Next round,” the manager called. “TV. Question one: What is Torchwood an anagram of?”
“Oh fuck, I hate anagrams,” Dylan said.
“Me too,” Hunter said. “But we’d better figure it out quickly.”
“Doctor Who,” Callum said.
Dylan stared at him. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Dylan’s jaw dropped. It was so fucking obvious, why hadn’t he known that? He pressed his fingertips against his thumb and held his hand close to his head, before flicking his fingers and thumb apart. “Mind. Blown.”
“Write it down,” Jag said.
“Yes, boss,” Dylan grumbled, as he wrote the answer down in his neatest handwriting. “You’re a sci-fi fan?” he asked Callum.
“Sometimes.” He tapped the side of his beer glass. “My dad used to watch Doctor Who when I was a kid.” He glanced at Kyrone and Michael, before staring at his beer again.
“Well, that makes me feel old,” Michael said.
“You are old,” Dylan pointed out.
Jag glared at him, but Dylan shrugged it off. He was wondering what he was missing, though. Why had Callum looked at Kyrone and Michael when he’d mentioned his dad? Clearly, they knew something he didn’t. Not that he could talk about hiding things, nor was it his business, but his curiosity was definitely aroused. To be fair, most of him was aroused in Callum’s presence, something he was going to have to work on subduing.
“Question two: What is Postman Pat’s surname?”
“What the fuck?” Dylan asked. “Who’s going to know that?” He looked around the table but was met with shrugs. “Postman Pat’s from your time, isn’t it?” he asked Michael.
Michael smiled and laughed. “Yes, but I never watched it.”
“Well, that’s one point lost,” Logan grumbled.
The third round was films, the fourth food and drink, and the fifth and final round was literature, which Jag dominated. When it came time to swap sheets, Kyrone took theirs to another table and came back with a sheet from a different table. It turned out that Postman Pat’s surname was Clifton, a fact Dylan was sure he’d forget by morning.
They didn’t win, though they were only two points off. After the prize was handed out to the winning table, the bar staff carried around plates of steaming hot sausage rolls which they all enjoyed, except Taylor who was vegetarian.
“We’re going to go,” Jag said when they’d done eating.
“Party poopers,” Dylan muttered.
Jag flipped his middle finger at Dylan, and then he and Michael said their goodbyes.
“Let me know how Jared is tomorrow?” he said to Kyrone.
“Will do.”
“Do you like reading?” Jag asked Callum.
