It was a mix bag of emotions when Freckles actually opened up. Eddy was relieved that he hadnt brushed off Eddy's awkward overtures at companionship, glad and surprised that he had somehow come across as friendly enough to encourage that sort of openness. But it was still a saddening thing to hear about the kid's troubles.<br/><br/>It was a common enough story. Lost job, bills to pay, but Eddy could recognize the things that went unsaid. The soul deep dissatisfaction of working a meaningless job just to make ends meet. The profound shame when failing to do even that. The nearly paralyzing anxiety of an almost empty bank account. The dehumanization of homelessness, the indescribable trauma of starvation.<br/><br/>Eddy remembers it well, even now despite being financial secure for decades. That sort of misery shapes a person.<br/><br/>And Freckles? He seemed like a bright kid. For how little Eddy knew him it was still easy to imagine that he would take to school well, that he could find a subject he loved and have enough passion and determination to make a life out of it. If only he had the money.<br/><br/>Poverty was truly a prison. Eddy poured him another drink.<br/><br/>"That's rough, buddy..." Eddy said, quoting a cartoon show because he was trash incapable of meaningful human interaction.<br/><br/>"You got anyone that can help you?" He asked before he could stop himself, hopeful that the poor kid wasnt going through this alone.