Last night was game night. We had it all planned. Steve was back, and we roped Munch in for a five-player game of Battlestar Galactica. We hadn't played since the night we locked Leon in the brig for two hours because Steve was the Cylon. That was eighteen months ago. I still feel bad.
But tonight would be awesome. No awkward lessons about racism in the modern American criminal justice system, not tonight, no sir.
Workman skipped dinner to go home and clean the Gloomhaven off his table. And then he messaged us to advise that, umm, he might not actually own Battlestar Galactica. He might have, umm, traded it away two years ago. #awkward
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