“What are the giggle twins giggling about?” Vic asks.

Darryl looks over at Benny and Fitzy, but they’re both shovelling food into their mouths like they’ve never eaten in their entire lives.

“OJ and J Math,” Vic says.

“Those are the least giggly twins I have ever met,” Darryl says.

“Look,” Vic says.

OJ and Math are bent over a phone, poking one another over whatever they’re watching, and — Darryl wouldn’t call it giggling. Snickering, maybe. Laughing at something, not with something. Still, it’s nice to see them act their age for once, instead of acting like grumpy middle aged men before they’re even legal in the States. Still more kids than adults, for all they both seem to want everyone to forget that.

“Let ‘em be,” Darryl says.

“I’m just shocked they actually know how to laugh,” Vic says, and laughs when Darryl elbows him.

*

Jade hates charity night.

That sounds awful. Charity is great. Jade is very pro-charity. Jade is not as pro handling a roster of grumpy men in tuxedos. She’s also not pro the unending headache of the weeks of set-up, the fans who think buying a ticket — for charity! — means they’re owed a player’s undivided attention, or, right now, Julius Halla’s impressive ability to turn sideways and disappear right when she needs him to go on stage.

It doesn’t help the search that the entire roster’s in tuxes, along with a number of the other attendees. Black tie everywhere. In another crowd she’d be able to pin Halla by height, but in this one he’s middle of the pack. No bright blond heads in her view, and she’s got — fuck, six minutes to get him to the stage, mic him up, make sure he remembers what he’s doing, plus his lines. She’s not optimistic about any of it, particularly the lines.

She keeps her eyes peeled with the guys north of six feet. No blond head, a blond head but it’s Morris’ strawberry blond — she stops and fixes his bowtie, which is the most crooked she’s seen, and Morris earnestly thanks her — light brown head, dark brown head, Darryl’s head!

“Have you seen Halla?” Jade asks. Darryl’s not only the one who’s most likely to actually have the answer, he’s also the one who’s most likely to stop and help her look if he doesn’t have the answer. You’re not supposed to have favourites. Jade would probably cry if he got traded.

“Look for Matheson,” Darryl says. “Guarantee you’ll find Halla.”

Jared revises her search. She finds Matheson quickly, leaning up against a wall close to the door like he’s considering escaping, and lo and behold, when she gets there Halla’s leaning beside him, successfully masked from view until you’re close up. She suspects it was on purpose, especially after he blanches when he sees her.

“You,” she says. “Come with me.”

“Jared?” Halla asks.

“Fine,” Matheson sighs, and when Jade marches to the stage they’re both tagging after her. Which she’s fine with, particularly when Matheson translates her directions from English to — still English but apparently more comprehensible to Halla English — they sound pretty much the same to her, but she gets confused looks and Matheson gets nods — and Halla’s only three minutes late to the stage.

“You want to go up too?” Jade asks as Halla steps on.

“No thank you,” Matheson says, in a voice that sounds more like ‘fuck no’, and Jade doesn’t press.

*

“How come we aren’t telepathic?” Fitzy whines.

Ben blinks. “Like X-men?” he asks.

“Like OJ and J Math,” Fitzy says.

“Uh,” Ben says.

“Look at them!” Fitzy says.

Ben looks. They’re just sitting on the bench, not doing anything. 

“Uh,” Ben repeats.

“They’re communicating,” Fitzy whispers. “Look!”

J Math elbows OJ, and OJ snickers. They are communicating.

“They got voted best bromance,” Fitzy pouts. “We’re the best bromance Benny.”

“Thanks?” Ben says.

“So we gotta practice,” Fitzy says. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Mike?” Ben guesses.