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“Oh yeah, man, you can totally have Marvin Gardens. I didn’t need it anyway.”
Faber was smiling, the type of blank, happy-go-lucky grin that he often wore when he scored a goal or saw somebody walking with a dog. He’d been giving away almost all of his properties the second someone asked him for a trade, a strategy that left his hand suspiciously empty of fake cash.
If Quinn didn’t know any better, he’d say that Fabes was doing it all on purpose—with his accent subtly shaping his words as he passed another unbalanced trade off to Boldy.
Two matching groans of exasperation escaped from Zuccy and Moose’s mouths, the latter throwing up his hands in outrage.
“Fabes! Dude, what the fuck?” Moose’s voice was strained as he gestured towards the board. “Now he’s got another Monopoly.”
Brock just shrugged helplessly as he laughed. “Nothing I can do about that, man. Sounds like you guys just gotta step up your game.”
“Not fair,” Zuccy complained from where he had buried his head in his hands. “You don’t even give a fuck about winning!”
“Shut the fuck up, you literally have the biggest stack of cash right now.” Boldy snarked smugly as he added another property into his hand and laid out his new Monopoly for the whole table to see. He raised his fist out across the table and Fabes bumped it with his own.
“Dude, appreciate you helping out the little guy.”
Boldly hadn’t been doing great so far—something that both stung his ego as it fed his competitive spirit—because he couldn’t seem to roll high enough to avoid Zuccy’s absolutely lethal Park Place. He’d probably sunk over 500 dollars just into paying that one space’s rent alone. It’d been brutal, and the fallout was evident in the scattered pieces across the table and the carpet. Hopefully no one would step on them when they finished the game.
And Quinn would know all this, because for some reason, they had made him the banker.
He’d just been watching them all chirp and argue with each other from a safe distance as he played a quiet game. They were all still wearing their sleep wear, all various variations of fluffy socks, flannel pants, and hoodies.
That meant either Moose had come and dragged them out of their beds, or they were caught on the way back to their hotel rooms, like Quinn was.
After being kidnapped into Zuccy’s room, he was sat down at the makeshift table before he even had a chance to think twice about it. Faber had fished out a beat-up old version of Monopoly out of his suitcase and the rest was history.
It was sort of like being back at home, where Luke and Jack would always argue about whose turn it was and he was in charge of getting them back on track. At least he wasn’t the only mediator here, with the presence of Kirill by his side.
Speaking of Kirill, he was just sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest. Like Fabes, he was smiling, but unlike Fabes, he’d been playing a fair—albeit boring game.
Quinn wasn’t sure if that was because he simply didn’t understand the rules, or if it was just how Kirill played board games all the time. He really couldn’t tell the difference because Kirill always just looked happy to be involved with something.
Don’t even get him started on the chaos that exploded when they all went to choose their respective pieces.
Of course, Kaprizov chose to play as the small dog, which had caused both Fabes, and Boldy to pipe up with their own complaints. There should’ve been enough for all of them, but apparently “the thimble’s fucking boring!” and they all had to swap around until everyone was satisfied. It was a fucking nightmare.
(But secretly, somewhere deep down, Quinn kind of loved all of the noise.)
…Though, seriously, why the hell did they choose to invite Quinn?
He was still technically the new kid on the block, and had barely enough time to learn everyone’s fucking names before he was thrust onto the ice. He was still trying to find his footing in the Minnesotan winter, with its salt-lined city streets and the piles of plowed snow.
Sure, Quinn had spent some time in Michigan, and Canada wasn’t all that different from the Twin Cities, no matter what people said about it. After all, it was all similar types of politeness that survived in the big cities, born from long, cold winters.
But it still wasn’t the same. And after the trade, he didn’t really know what to expect. There was a lot of anxiety thrumming through his veins, obviously. He’d played with the Canucks for over five years.
So it had honestly shocked him to see how quickly they had brought him into the fold. It was awkward—Oh God, was it awkward—but they had made the effort of talking to him feel like something worth celebrating.
Like his words outside of the ice held meaning, not just because of who happened to be saying them.
It didn’t feel fake, like the guys had only brought him along for some mere team bonding. It felt like they actually wanted him here, because of his personality, not just his skills on the ice.
Even though he knew, logically, that the Canucks didn’t just care about him for his talent and all the hard work he put in for his talent to pay off, that didn’t stop the media from sniffing out any hint of weakness like sharks scenting blood.
It… was really nice to not have to worry about being the one everyone looked to for answers.
Because there was Spurgeon. There was Foligno and Kaprizov, and all the other guys who had been putting in experience and the work. He didn’t have to be the superhero. He didn’t have to save anybody, or restore greatness, or whatever new fucking bullshit headline the paparazzi came up with.
“1, 2 , 3… ach, Zuccy, that is your place, yes?” Kirill was already reaching for the correct amount in his hand, shuffling through the bills to pass them along. “Here it is, 75 dollars for one Zuccy.”
“God, Kirill, you’re so boring.” Moose leaned in to chirp him again as Boldy let out a laugh. “My daughter plays a dirtier game than you do, and she’s 4!”
“But it is better to be honest, yes?” Kirill’s voice turned smug as he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t cheat like you do.”
Quinn felt himself grin at Moose’s fake-outraged face as he leapt up to defend his honor. To his surprise, he found himself joining in on Kirill’s argument.
“He’s got a point, you and Zuccy have been passing cards back and forth the whole game.”
Kirill’s smile stretched so wide that Quinn could see the gap of his missing tooth. Moose sputtered and turned towards Fabes for more help, who just perked up and offered up his own hand.
“Oh, do you need some more—”
“Nobody needs your cash, Fabes!”
“Are you sure?” Fabes’ face was confused as he gestured to the empty space in front of Moose. “But I’m pretty sure you do need it, because you’re losing really badly right now—”
“Fuck you!”
“Yeah, fuck you, Fabes!” Boldy chimed in for the hell of it, a shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. Faber looked even more bewildered as he threw his hands up in the air.
“What the fuck did I even do, man.” Quinn heard him whisper to nobody.
Kirill shook his head and bumped his broad shoulder into Quinn’s. “Moosey is about to flip the board, and then Boldy will punch him in the jaw, no?”
Zuccy picked up the dice and calmly shook them in his hands before rolling them out onto the corner of the board.
“Dickhead, if you flip this board, I’m gonna do worse than just punch you in the jaw.”
“Yeah, you wanna go? C’mon, let’s fucking go, Bolds.”
Zuccy started to count out his spaces, hopping over Quinn’s top hat with his battleship. “1, 2, 3, 4…”
“I bet your geriatric ass wouldn’t last five fucking minutes!”
“Oh yeah? You’re one to talk about lasting five minutes, Mr. Two-Pump—”
Quinn let out a small laugh as Zuccy ducked beneath both Moose’s and Boldy’s flailing hands expertly, as he continued to move his piece along the side. “8, 9, 10… and I passed Go! Where’s my 200?”
The game was disrupted as Moose decided to call Boldy’s bluff and he flipped the board, sending pieces scattering all across the floor and Quinn’s banknotes to end up in his lap. Which then caused Boldy to launch over the table and tackle him to the ground, which then ended up in a full-on wrestling match that had both Kirill and Fabes whooping in the background.
Yeah, it was just like being at home again.