It's a tempting thought, Spain. Getting away. And Alvo's sincere as ever, offering without ever thinking about what he's offering. He's a good bloke. Always has been. Doesn't always have a great filter, brain to mouth, but it's not like that's not a common problem.

And getting away from everything, well. Tempting for all of them. He doesn't know how Bax copes with his daughters, and Quinn just always seems a little like he could use some unwinding. He shelves it away in the back of his head, that maybe a couple years down the road they'll find some way to join Alvo.

At Alvo's question though he shrugs, smiles a little. Runs a finger around the rim of his glass just for something to do with his hands. "Haven't missed much. Been seeing someone for a while, that's about it."

And he's struck, somehow, by how long it's been since him and the lads have had a chat, just sat down and talked, swapped stories over a pint. Long enough for so much to change for all of them -- he doesn't know half of what Quinn's doing, or Bax, doesn't even know his daughter's names or ages past 'teen' -- but not long enough for it to feel strange.

It's nice. In a way.