Post-LS prompt number hey guys, it’s Friday!: “Team Folly going out drinking together with all their respective mates/spouses and maybe other additional people. Hilarity and Fluff ensues” (@utrinque-paratus)
I can’t say that they welcome us with open arms at The Chestnut Tree, even with Lady Ty owning the place, but you have to show your face around if you want to keep any respect. It had occurred to me that it wouldn’t hurt if some other faces were seen around too, which is why I’d dragged Dom Croft here, since he was in town for a conference. Victor was ‘in town for the shopping’, a direct quote, Sahra and Stephanopoulos had been there when I’d asked Dom, Michael and Pam had materialised at their better halves’ summons, and I had totally been just about to text Bev when we’d walked in the door and found her already presiding over a table, shandy in hand – apparently that was okay if you were as far along as she was.
“Sahra said you were too busy gossiping to text me,” she said in greeting. “Dom! Vic! It’s been way too long.”
There was a round of greetings before Dominic and Victor went off to sort out the first round.
“You’ll have to grab your own,” Dominic said ten minutes later – it was a Friday night after all -, putting half the drinks down on the table in front of us; Victor was behind him with the rest. “I remembered the list, but bugger me if I can remember who was drinking what.”
“Shame,” said Victor, putting the rest down. “There goes one career if the coppers decide they don’t want you any more.”
“I’ll just have to be a kept man,” Dom sighed, picking up his own pint.
“The closest I’ve ever got to a farm is the hens,” said Stephanopoulos, “but even that gives me the impression there aren’t a lot of kept people in farming, period.”
“Ssh,” said Victor. “I’m saving that for when they catch him talking to foxes.”
“They don’t fire you for that,” said Sahra. “Not unless you’re doing it in daylight.”
“Does that mean you can tell the buggers to stay away from the henhouse?” Pam narrowed her eyes.
“Of course not,” said Bev. “They’re foxes.”
“Worth asking,” said Pam, amiably.
“Cheers, everybody,” said Sahra, holding up her umbrella-laden drink. The Chestnut Tree did an impressive range of mocktails now – I suspected that had something to do with something that had happened when I’d been on leave, but Sahra hadn’t filled me in on the details.
“Cheers,” we said, and glasses clinked.
