"Bull-fucking-shit," she snaps.
"I'm not lying."
"Well, then you're delusional." She pushes by you and heads towards the bar. You watch her go, then turn to survey the rest of the room.
Next
It was busy before your pack arrived. Now it's crowded. Bodies jostle for space by the bar and several more crowd onto the sofas and arm chairs. Everyone else is standing in loose circles, the muddled sounds of their conversations filling the air.
You spot Ed in one such circle, smiling politely as pack elders recount the many glorious victories of their youth.
Vicky hasn't integrated into any group. She's taken up position in the darkest corner of the room, arms crossed, expression hard, clearly determined to not have a good time.
The Alphas and Minjo are in the very middle of the room, circled around a standing table, talking with each other while the kids scamper underfoot.
There is a commotion by the dartboard. A chaotic mix of cheers and curses. You can't see anything through the press of bodies, but you can hear both Marco and Shawnie's voices.
Carrie is at the bar, waiting for her beer.