Chris and Ren
Chris had never really been a paintball sort of person, but that was mostly because nobody ever wanted to try and compete with him. Everything was fun and games up until he started losing, at which point games became very serious business; this was compounded by the fact that Chris was not, for all his energy and talk, very good at sports. Fortunately, paintball was only sort of a sport. Or at least that's what he'd figured out. It was sort of like hunting, only less fatal and a lot more humiliating for the losers. Who would not be him.
Oh, no, not at all.
It was Ren who'd pointed out the invitation on the boards to him, and, somehow managing to finagle the night off by working double shifts before them, he was now pulling into the parking lot with his friend, ready for an evening of kicking ass and taking names. The promise of potential beer afterward was even better. Imagine a round of drinks right after a glorious, bruising victory on the paintball fields! Best way to start a weekend ever.
"So you know the guy who set this up?" he asked Ren as they headed for the setup. Work had been kicking his ass lately, and the building going fucking insane really hadn't helped matters any.