You should aim to open your wallet. [he sees len's pun and raises him an exaggerated eyeroll.]

You'll let me, huh? Just like I let you drink here, I guess.

[the tone is firm but there's a grin which tugs at the corners of his mouth which suggests it's all part of the playful banter which accompanies a friendly match. mick takes aim at the board and releases the dart with a flick of his wrist. it lands at the fifteen. the next two shots are wide, just narrowly missing their intended targets and mick grunts in complaint as he goes to mark off his score and retrieve his darts before it's len's turn.]

Speaking of, you want a beer?