A murky film of smoke coated the air above the room, illuminated by the watery light flooding the pub windows. Despite being permeated with the smell of cigarettes and stale beer, the place was fairly neat. A large bar made from dark wood and a series of benches down the rectangular room gleamed from a fresh waxing. It was busy for the middle of the afternoon though none of the voices were raised in inebriated fervor.

Keeping her head down, Marianne followed Bovver to the back of the pub. The farthest corner of red cushioned benches were occupied by a group of rowdy young men, a set of three tables pulled up between them. A series of pints and pitchers filled with frothing beer scattered the surfaces. The excited talk slowly faded as she came into view behind Bovver.

"Ay ay," Bovver smirked as he shook hands with one of the guys, the others staring at her like she had suddenly grown another head.

"Who's this now? Not like you to bring someone around, Bov," the one with the cheeky grin said as he held out a hand towards her. "Swill."

Marianne gave his hand a quick shake with a fleeting smile. "Mari."

"Just ran into her outside and invited her in for a beer," Bovver explained dourly before proceeding to introduce the other characters at the table.

"Pull up a seat, Mari." The dark haired one named Dave gestured to a red leather stool across from him. "Now how do you two know each other?"

"Go way back." Bovver shrugged, taking a seat at the end of the table and tossing her a clandestine wink.

Marianne tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced down at her lap. "Since nine o'clock this morning at least."

Swill snorted as he poured her a glass of beer. "This morning?"

"I was trying to figure out the train schedule to get to here from Heathrow. I just flew in from Boston today."

A hand landed firmly on her shoulder as she brought the beer to her lips. Marianne choked on her sip as she gazed up into Pete Dunham's wry grin that didn't reach his eyes. He arched a dark eyebrow.

"Well isn't this a small world, Marianne called Mari." Pete sank into the chair next to her, keeping his eyes on Bovver as he lit a cigarette. "How do you know Shannon's sister, Bov?"

Bovver's gaze danced between them in surprise as the waitress brought over a tray of shots. Marianne took one gratefully as Dave offered it, throwing it back to quell her nerves. She needed some liquid fortification to survive this kind of surprise.

Bovver leaned towards her over the table. "You're Shannon's sister?"

Marianne coughed as the liquor burned her throat. "Yes, last I checked. I didn't know you two were friends."

"Me n' Bov? Yeah, been friends for years," Pete replied dryly, leaning back in his seat. He gave her a chilly grin. "Now we can all be friends, eh?"

Thankfully, the conversation took a gregarious turn into the semantics of cockney slang which they informed her of in detail. Marianne finished off her first beer quickly, the liquor numbing the awkwardness she had felt upon entering the pub. Pete ignored her for the most part, though she could hardly blame him. After a while, it didn't bother her as she struggled to keep up with Swill's lightening quick questions about Boston.

Bovver smacked Mike over the head when he had jokingly called her a Septic Tank, the cockney word for Yank. Red faced, he apologized as he twisted the wedding band his hand. From what she could tell, Mike was the only one married.

"You planning on taking this girl to the match today?" Dave asked Bovver.

Bov shot Pete an inquisitive glance before turning towards Marianne. "I wasn't sure if she'd be interested."

"Interested in what?" she asked.

"Football."

"Soccer, gentlemen. Remember with our little Septic Tank here," Pete crowed, earning a chorus of hoots at the jab. Bovver's expression drew tight and Pete gave a charming smile. "Sorry, I mean Yank. No offense, love."

Marianne ignored him. "There is a football match today?"

"Would you like to come?" Bovver asked her, lighting another cigarette.

She could sense Pete tense next to her as he downed the last of his beer. With a quick glance in his direction, she caught a quickly concealed frown. If anything, it made her want to go even more, despite not knowing anything about the sport. With muted surprise, she realized that they had been sitting there for nearly two hours and she hadn't thought once about the video or Justin. It was the first time she had been truly free from thoughts of them. She wanted to lose herself a little more.

"I would love to, if you have an extra ticket," she replied with a flicker of a grin towards Bovver, feeling a little of her old self come to the surface.

As the time for the match drew closer, the gathering in the bar grew bigger and rowdier. They were finally evicted from their seats to make room for more standing room. The only thing Marianne could compare the scene to were pep rallies in high school or the bars in Southie before a Red Sox game. The crowd swelled from liquor and anticipation, Marianne and the other boys packed by the bar as Bovver and another fan stood on a nearby table to lead the crowd in cheers.

Her blood heated from the liquor and senses pleasantly fuzzy, Swill and Dave shot out commentary with their heavy slang while simultaneously trying to explain themselves. Pete hovered behind them, one ear on the conversation while hooting out the cheers with gusto. Someone threw a beer and suddenly Bovver and the other fan were drenched as the bar chanted the West Ham fight song.

Marianne slipped away to the ladies room before she got too wet. Rinsing some of the beer from the back of her head and reapplying her lip gloss, she smiled in the mirror, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks. Maybe it was the attention that the other boys smothered on her or Bovver's subtle flirting. Quite possibly it was just the copious amounts of alcohol. Whatever it was, Marianne was thankful for an afternoon to forget about everything she had run from back in Boston.

"Excuse me-" she blurted as she nearly hit another body with the door as she walked back out into the pub.

"Marianne called Mari, come here a second." Pete pushed the door closed behind her and pulled her by the elbow into a quiet corner. He peered down, putting his entire focus on her for the first time that night. "I don't think this is a good idea for you to come to the match."

Marianne scoffed. "Why is that?"

"Because these things can get a little rough sometimes and I don't want you to get hurt. I have my brother and Shannon to think about and so do you."

With a smirk, Marianne tried to move past him, the alcohol in her system making her brazen. "I think you're just being an arrogant ass because I didn't want to get a drink with you earlier. To be honest, I think you're an arrogant ass a lot of the time."

Pete let out a mirthless bark of a laughter. "Fine. It's your skin. You in the mood for a little danger, Yank, go ahead. I won't stop you."

"What's that supposed to be?" She sneered up at him venomously. "A threat?"

"No, just a warning. But I won't be the one to explain to your sister if anything happens. You go right ahead, darling." With that he strode away from the heated conversation into the crowd.

Marianne wrapped her arms around her torso and looked after him. Bovver stumbled towards her, the worse for the liquor as well. He gave her a grin, eyes blurry and doused in beer. "We're about ready to leave. You ready, Yank?"

It was too late to back out now, not after her exchange with Pete. She would lose face if she didn't go. After all, she'd survived Boston the year before when they'd won the World Series and that had been crazy enough. This was merely a common soccer match, nothing special from what she could tell in the conversation with the other boys.

Marianne shrugged. "I'll get my coat."

Bovver gave her elbow a squeeze as he passed towards the mens room. "Sounds good."

Strutting past Pete where he stood paying his tab at the bar, she felt his eyes on her as she moved towards Dave and Swill. Her sister had been more than right, Pete Dunham was an ass of colossal proportions.