At the sound of a voice, Roy grunts low in his throat, turning to face the guy. American. Not all twangy Kansas bullshit like Ted Lasso, but close enough to Roy's ear, who can't tell the difference between someone from Texas and someone from fucking Canada.

"Bad fuckin' day," he agrees, although that's not entirely true. The high of chasing down Jamie is still with him and Roy's mouth twitches faintly at the memory, the pleasure of knocking that arrogant cunt on his ass sure to hang around for a long time to come.

"Did we win and I got really fucking drunk and forgot the rest of the day?" he asks. If this is anywhere near Richmond and they won, even an American will be aware of it. Richmond would make enough fucking noise to knock down the whole continent if they beat Manchester.