It’s a little after lunchtime on the first day, and the malaise of the small fry among big fish has long taken hold.
“Alright, mate. I got you a coffee.” Dave said to his companion behind the table.
“Alright.” Replied James, from his perch.
“Looks busy.” Dave looked around, trying to find a way back to his seat next to his friend. “Ah, balls.” He said, resigned. Placing the two coffees on their long table, he hunkered down, lifted back the sheet that settled like a skirt along the tables length, and scooted underneath. A few seconds later he bobbed up awkwardly alongside James, and settled into his seat with a sigh.
The two old friends sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes, watching the crowds passing their spot.
“What are this lot up to?” Dave asked.
“Queuing for Thor.” James replied.
“I know. Not even worth bothering unless you’re one of the big guns, is it?”
“Ah, it’s not so bad. At least we get to look at the cosplayers.”
“Well, they’re pretty, but they’re incredibly young. And they only ever come as someone famous, or famous-ish. Never anyone we have anything to do with.”
And with that they fell silent, drinking their coffee and waiting out the end of the first day of the convention, when they could get to the serious drinking with their fellow gods, the tiny and the gigantic. Dave, the God of Successful One Night Stands, and James, the God of Men Called James.
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