May 2nd, 1890 - Chudley Cannons Pitch
Several hours had passed since practice, which had been fine. Cash had stuck around in the locker room far longer than the rest of the team, smoked a cigarette, wandered around the pitch until the sun went down. He'd been about ready to leave when he realized, with a start, that he was not alone.
Cash pulled himself into the stands by swinging his leg over the edge and pushing upwards. He half-jogged up a few sets of stairs until he reached Theo Gallivan, who was, for some reason, sitting here instead of doing anything better with his time.
Cash sat in the seat next to him. This would be better if he had something to drink, but he hadn't yet started storing alcohol in the pitch; that would probably actually provoke Gallivan into firing him. There was a line; Cash had hovered just above it for ages, but there was a line.
"I hope your sister's ear is fine," he said, instead if anything else. The entire birthday party had been - odd. Different. Cash had not thought very hard about why he decided to show up; the Gallivans were interesting, and Cash was so rarely interested in anything.
Theodore Gallivan
Cash pulled himself into the stands by swinging his leg over the edge and pushing upwards. He half-jogged up a few sets of stairs until he reached Theo Gallivan, who was, for some reason, sitting here instead of doing anything better with his time.
Cash sat in the seat next to him. This would be better if he had something to drink, but he hadn't yet started storing alcohol in the pitch; that would probably actually provoke Gallivan into firing him. There was a line; Cash had hovered just above it for ages, but there was a line.
"I hope your sister's ear is fine," he said, instead if anything else. The entire birthday party had been - odd. Different. Cash had not thought very hard about why he decided to show up; the Gallivans were interesting, and Cash was so rarely interested in anything.
MJ made this!