A third man suddenly walked in, and this time Gavin recognized him. It was one of his teammates, Yan Feliciano. “Como es el?” How is he? Gavin understood that. Holy shit, he could speak Spanish when he was drunk. Del shook his head. “He’s about one shot away from listening to Ed Sheeran.” Gavin hiccupped. “No me gusta Ed Sheeran.”
