The rest of his walk home was a painful one, though manageable. He'd experienced worse in Brazil, but still, it had been a while since he had taken a hit that hard. He rounded the first corner, wiping a drop of blood from his eyebrow, catching it just before it descended into his eye. A pair of gang-bangers across the street saw his limping gait and laughed loudly. "'ey man! What's a-matter? Yo bitch catch you out wit some ugly-ass ho?" Another round of laughter circulated between the two. In no mood to deal with the intelligence-deprived youth, Ethan turned his head to them as he continued to walk.<br/><br/>"Yep. Do me a favor and apologize to your mom for me." he responded as he extended his arm toward them, a single digit on his hand pointing upward." The pair stopped laughing quickly, and perhaps thought about taking insult, but said nothing to him, nor did they act against him. It seemed that the 'friend' of the talker had recognized Ethan, and said something quietly to the other that discouraged him from action. Ethan wasn't exactly an obscure figure in his neighborhood, and for a variety of reasons. To some he was just a harmless young man who had just had a set of bad circumstances all lined up, one after another. To others he was a cruel man who'd rather insult you than look at you. But to a select few, he was simply a kind, yet misunderstood person. Ethan didn't care who thought what. It wasn't his concern.<br/><br/>He finally reached his building, having run into no further opposition, or cars, and ascended the stairs It was a long climb for a change, but he refused to take the elevators. They didn't work half the time anyway, so there was no use in bothering. Ethan swiped his hand over the door, causing it to slide open. Once it closed behind him, he activated the lock, then made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a pack of ice, which he pressed softly to his head. The gash would scar, for sure, but scars were nothing new to Ethan. Sighing deeply, and pissed off that his plans to find work were abruptly dashed away by the grill of a Cadillac, he eased himself onto the couch, putting his feet up on one arm while his head rested against the other.<br/><br/>It was times like those that he wished he'd never given up smoking.<br/><br/>Lacking motivation, Ethan had barely moved from his spot. In fact, he had only moved enough to turn on the TV and to grab a bottle of alcohol. In the districts, they didn't get prime programming like those in the upper echelons enjoyed, but there were still some basics that weren't half bad. Hell, anything was better than he had during his tour of duty.<br/><br/>When the knock came to the door, he almost didn't hear it. No one ever knocked on his door anymore. Not in a year, at the very least. Curious as to whether or not he heard what he thought he heard, Ethan literally rolled off the couch, thudding against the floor, he pushed himself up and shambled to the door.<br/><br/>"What," came his voice through the speaker in the hallway, the poor quality distorting his voice slightly.