"Shit, you're right. You'd both make it," Steve says as he gets up and grabs the cooler and bag holding their food, dragging them over towards the fire before retrieving the other chair and plopping down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch. "Rest of us are doomed."

He opens the cooler and pulls out two bottles of beer, handing one over to Maeve before setting his own on the ground. After a bit of rifling through the pack, he unearths a pair of retractable cooking sticks that were in the shit Hopper borrowed.

"Wieners first?" He hands Maeve a stick and then pulls a pack of hot dogs out of the cooler. "Processed meat parts cooked over an open flame. Can't say I never spoil you."