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Lance took his seat on the stool as Mack loaded in the video game.
"Hey," Fitz protested. "I thought I was going to play drums tonight!"
Hunter shrugged with a completely unapologetic look on his face. "You thought wrong," he replied. Putting on a cheeky grin, he continued, "Besides, playing guitar is good physiotherapy."
Fitz rolled his eyes and picked up the bass. "You're not the only one who wants to hit stuff is all," he explained.
"True," Hunter admitted, "But I am the only one who can get five stars on expert level, so..."
"Give it up, Turbo," Mack advised. "I've been playing rock band with Hunter for almost six years now, and he's got a death-grip on those drums."
"Remember that time in Estonia?" Hunter reminisced, twirling a drumstick casually in one hand and idly kicking the pedal.
Mack exchanged a long-suffering look with Fitz and shook his head slightly.
Fitz nodded just as slightly and went about choosing his character.
"Bobbi wanted us to go under as bare-knuckle boxers," he continued, oblivious to the lack of interest in the room. "But I noticed that the mark's son was big into punk bands. "
Fitz raised his eyebrows and nodded in polite disinterest before picking up his beer and downing half the bottle. It looked like it was going to be another evening full of "Remember whens..." that he couldn't remember. Hunter seemed to forget sometimes that they'd only met six months before.
"Mack couldn't play guitar for shit, and Bobbi only sometimes hit the notes," he continued, chuckling to himself. "But it's punk, so as long as you sound pissed off who cares, right?"
Mack leaned over to Fitz conspiratorially. "He tells this story when Bobbi's here, and she's a nightingale," he revealed. "And then we start the whole roller coaster ride all over again," he continued in a quieter voice that only Fitz could hear.
Fitz grinned and shook his head. How those two had managed to get married was just unfathomable.
"Yeah well," Hunter explained, "If I tell it like it is, she'll... make things difficult."
Mack turned to Fitz again and deadpanned, "He means she won't have sex with him."
"Yeah, I got that actually," Fitz nodded.
"Anyway," Hunter said in a louder voice. "The kid loved our band so much, he gave his mum to us on a silver platter."
"He told us where she was having lunch the next day," Mack translated.
"Lunch with her supplier," Hunter clarified with a sneer. "And we took them both down, right there in the cafe."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. took them down," Mack explained helpfully. "But you were there!" he said, putting his hands up in defense.
"You know," Hunter pointed a drum stick at him accusingly. "One day, I'm going to write all these stories down and make a fortune with my autobiography!"
Fitz shrugged, "I'd buy it."
"Thank you, Fitz," Hunter smiled graciously at him.
"And get Bobbi to go through it with a red pen, correcting things," he teased.
Mack threw his head back and laughed. "She'd do it, too," he said with a wide smile.
Hunter glared at them each in turn. "And that's why we're divorced," he said sourly.
"I thought it was because you're a mercenary and she's a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?" Fitz asked.
"Yeah well, you know what they say about love and money," Hunter said philosophically.
"What's that?" Mack asked out of curiosity.
"If you have enough money," Hunter winked. "You can negotiate love for an hour at a time."