Alders came out of the back room wearing his regular uniform. Cargo shorts, older-than-god band t-shirt, and sneakers that may once have been white. He called them trainers, but that was just his lame UK slang.

“What’s up man?” I asked, not really interested.

“Grinding my healer. What a fucking waste.” He replied.

“Waste?” I asked.

“Yeah, like, you spend 50 hours training these fuckers up, right, and getting to a decent level, and then some pond scum comes up and plunks ye in the back! What’s that all about?”

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Some MMORPG he was playing. Last year had been spent almost entirely within that World of Wankers game. By Easter I had know just about everything going on in that made up world as I’d ever wanted. And more. Too much, actually. All the bullshit politics and stuff within his guild, or club or whatever he called it. “Couldn’t tell you man.” I shook my head.

“Fuck it, going back in.” He grabbed another beer and trudged back to his room.