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Over the years, the Greyhounds have spent the nights before away matches watching a lot of movies in a lot of hotel conference centers. Sometimes Ted thinks about all the achingly dull business meetings that take place in venues like this. He kinda likes the notion of giving all the beige upholstery and soundproof walls and video-conferencing software a bit of a thrill, and a real change-up from the usual routine—a night with a bunch of footballers and a cinematic classic. He’s taken to standing before the team and announcing his selections for the evening with a brief spiel about each film. Then, synopses and historical context provided, he leaves it up to the team to vote on which one to watch.
But tonight Ted’s barely begun his rundown on Brokeback Mountain and Schindler’s List when Isaac stands up from his seat in the first row of their makeshift movie theater and clears his throat.
“Coach,” Isaac says. “Maybe we could watch something that isn’t gonna make everybody cry their eyes out the night before we face West Ham.”
“Yeah, gaffer,” chimes in Colin. “What d’you think about sparing us all emotional breakdowns for just one movie night? We can go back to crying after we exact our revenge on London Stadium.”
“Something lighthearted would do us all good,” says Sam. Uncertainty crosses his face, but he makes up his mind to continue. “I appreciate your commitment to a breadth of genres, but—it’s been dark lately.”
“Crying releases toxins from the body,” Jan points out. “And emotional tears contain different ingredients than other types of tears, such as the tears someone might cry due to an irritant or allergic reaction. I appreciate the opportunity to cry emotional tears with all of you.”
“I’d rather cry in the comfort of my own home,” admits Bumbercatch. “We’ve shared many magical movie nights, but there’s a time and a place for everything.”
“Just got a chemical peel done,” says Jamie. “My face isn’t ready for anything challenging.”
“You might be onto somethin’, fellas,” Ted admits. The feedback is unexpected but hardly undeserved. “Give me a couple secs to rethink tonight’s lineup and we’ll be back in business in no time.”
Ted walks to the back of the room where Roy, Beard, and Rebecca sit at a small round table. He flashes the tiniest of grins in Rebecca’s direction, which she returns. Rebecca at team movie night—it’s a miracle, a delight, and a whole lot of pressure.
“Mad Max Fury Road,” Beard says immediately.
Ted opens his mouth and closes it again.
“Trust me,” Beard says.
“I always do,” says Ted.
Beard starts clicking around on the laptop attached to the conference room projector. “Found it,” he murmurs.
Ted doesn’t walk back to the front of the room. He takes a seat next to Rebecca. “Okay, guys, we got something real good for ya,” he shouts just as Beard successfully rents the movie and pushes play. “I appreciate the honest feedback,” he adds, and the sound of his voice is mostly drowned out by the start of the movie.
“Oh, I’ve seen this before,” Roy mutters a few minutes in. “This is real fuck-up-Rupert-Mannion’s-smug-fucking-face energy right here.”
At the direct mention of Rupert’s name, Ted glances at Rebecca, who shifts in her seat and gives in an almost imperceptible nod. She grins again, the expression is such a delicate addition to her ordinarily emotive face that it makes Ted’s spine tingle. This thing between them is still so new. New enough that there’s a hotel room booked under each of their names, even if they’ll almost certainly only need one. New enough that his palm starts to sweat when she reaches under the table and finds his hand. Ted is queasy with nerves about the match—they all are. They’ll see Rupert and Nate, and West Ham would be a tough opponent even without the personal challenges, and Ted knows he isn’t the only one in this room who’s aware that a victory tomorrow will feel nearly as complicated as a defeat.
In the movie, the apocalypse has already happened. In real life, there might be even more disasters ahead of humanity than there have been in the past. Some of them—just small ones, inconsequential but not—might happen in the morning. But the light from the screen washes over the team and they’re sitting together in a warm, dark room and Rebecca Welton is holding his hand.