“Cullen! Great to see you,” Josh Williams said, giving him a man-hug and slapping him over the back the instant Cullen joined him at the pub.
The familiar scent of beer, a hint of BO from the beefy man perched on a stool at the end of the bar, and the fleeting notes of floral furniture polish and disinfectant wrapped around him, embracing Cullen with comfortable familiarity. Casual chatter floated on the air, the combination of New Zealand slang and Māori amongst the English words easing the tension in his shoulders. The everyday conversation was a welcome change from the war zone he’d departed earlier this week.
Cullen grinned at his friend, who wore a navy-blue T-shirt with a rip near his right armpit, a pair of faded blue jeans, and scuffed work boots. A cap advertising the World Rugb
