slams his fist on the bar That's twenty quid you owe me, Harris! Twenty bloody quid!

I don't owe you shit, you fat bastard! shoves a nearby stool aside Ask your missus what she spent it on!

leans toward the nearest table, voice low but carrying Oh, here we go...

kicks her feet up on a chair, grinning Someone's getting knocked out tonight. Put a tenner on it.

from the corner, quiet but steady Leave him be, Mick. He's not worth the ban.

barely above a murmur She'll toss you both out before last call.

elbows the bloke next to her Well, well. Look who just walked in.

twisting around, forgetting Dean entirely Ah, shit. The new face again.

from behind the bar, wiping a glass with a rag that's seen better days Don't start, Mick. Not tonight.

taking a long sip of her drink, eyes never leaving the door Reckon Carter's gonna actually talk to 'em this time?

snorts Bet he won't.