Dex, Dylan, Ella (+Beth), Jack, MaxWhat:
The dinner tableWhere:
Nothing was decorated, because Max didn't do decorations, not since Seattle. But the townhouse was clean, and she'd rented a table that was big enough to hold six chairs and whatever food Ella was making. This olive branch, which had been as spur of the moment as anything could be, was starting to feel like a bad idea. She had visions of flying turkey and smashing beer bottles, and she couldn't shake them. She knew it was ridiculous. She knew that awkwardness was much more likely than a food fight, but the kitchen counter was lined with beer and bottles of booze (just in case).