The Old Horse Pub

“So... remind me what we're doing here again.”

“Well, as you well know, the festival was called off for the day because of your little brother's stunt with a lighter. Where did he get that, again?”

“Don't ask me. Aren't you supposed to be the firefighter hero? And I meant, why are we here in this crappy bar?”

“The Old Horse pub is the only place that doesn't ask for ID, and I wanted some cheap drinks.”

“Old Horse pub? More like Dead Horse pub. Where is everyone?”

“Too early yet for the drunken idiots. Hehe, you're not very good at this.”

“Oh, stop it. You're not great either.”

“At least mine are hitting the board. Watch and learn.”

“Boo!”

“Move closer.”

“Yes! See? That's how you do it.”

“Tch. Oh, wait, come to think of it, I think Aria ended up here for her birthday.”

“Wow. Rather her than me.”

“I felt bad I didn't do anything for her myself, but I was at yours, helping you with that assignment.”

“Oh, yeah. The start of our beautiful friendship. Anyway, your throw. Try your best.”

“I'll show you, Logan Greene...”

“Yes!”

“Nice one!”

“I'll go get some drinks in, shall I?”

“Are you that guy my grandmother hypnotised? She slept with you then stole your house.”

“No idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, sorry, that was really rude of me. It's definitely you, though.”

“There you go.”

“That looks radioactive.”

“Don't start with that. Zeus keeps blaming everything on toxic waste. Says we'll all end up as mutants. I already am.”

“You stop that right now. Saraya, you're pretty...”

“Oh, sorry. I didn't realise you'd skipped your eye test. I'd prioritise glasses over a new guitar if I were you.”

“Whatever... maybe one day, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“N-nothing. I'll just go back to kicking your ass at darts.”

“Fine.”

Elsewhere...

“I finally found you...”

“Not really a mansion like you said, but still impressive. Eh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Grandmother. I've been looking for you.”

“Why? I thought you were glad to be rid of me. Did you get nostalgia for being insulted, or something?”

“I have questions, and you're going to answer them.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. We've got it all worked out, you see.”

“We?”

“Saraya and I. So you tell me what you and Tate had to do with John Atwood's death...”