Conner's attention was focused entirely on the screen of his second-hand laptop as it whirred and coughed and wheezed, struggling to keep up with the simple act of streaming a video. Internet service was terrible in his building, and his computer was a piece of crap, but it was just powerful enough to stream a particular webcam show he was quite fond of. He watched the buxom blonde on his screen dance to "Do You Wanna Touch Me", her body swaying evocatively as clothes started coming off. "My, my, my, whiskey and rye..." Conner murmured to himself; the Blackhearts weren't exactly one of his favorites, but he found that he was slowly coming to appreciate their music at least a little more. About halfway through, just when things were getting racier, he heard his phone start to go off. "Dammit..." Conner sighed and closed everything on his computer before shutting the laptop, putting it in instant sleep mode. He couldn't afford access to this site often, but when he could he was sure to use whatever credits he'd mustered on one stream in particular. But some things took precedence over his desire for eye candy, and however inopportune her timing was a call from his grandmother was one of those things.<br/><br/>He cleared his throat before answering, only now noticing that his blood had been pumping faster and his mouth was dry. In the brief moments before pushing 'Accept' to take the call, he mentally noted how lame it was that simply watching a woman on screen could do that to him and that he really needed to get out more. And, on a related note, the sudden tightness in the center of his jeans indicated he really needed to get laid.<br/><br/>"Hey, Grams," Conner said after pushing accept, feeling any and all arousal die as his libido nosedived like a duck suddenly filled with lead. He loved the only family he had left, but sometimes her timing could not be any worse. He tried to keep the mild irritation out of his voice as he spoke. "How are you? Is everything okay?"<br/><br/>"<i>Conner, sweetie, everything's fine</i>," she replied. Her voice made him smile in part because of his affection for her, but also because she sounded like your stereotypical grandmother; the high pitch that almost sounds faded, the slightly-longer-than-normal delay between every word... In short, adorable. "<i>You're always so worried about me, just like your grandfather. I wish you'd spend a little more time worrying about yourself, dear</i>." She sighed and it sounded like she clicked her tongue on her gums, as though a thought had just occurred to her. "<i>Speaking of which, your latest check came in the mail today. It's very sweet of you to send me money, Conner, but I know you don't make much more than what you send and you really should focus more on what you need. You could be saving for a new computer or setting money aside to get you out of that <b>awful</b> apartment... Or at least to get some furniture</i>."<br/><br/>"Grams, I've told you not to worry about it." Conner took a moment to look around his small studio apartment; it was a little awful. He had a twin XL mattress in the corner that barely contained his fully-grown height and a folding card table set up with two collapsible chairs (that, coincidentally, looked to be on the verge of collapsing (much like the building around him)). These items comprised all of his furniture. When he had been watching his favorite show earlier, he had been doing so on the floor with his back against the bed (the actions that usually took place with such activities were ones that he preferred to keep away from the place where he ate) and his computer in his lap. "I'm getting by just fine, I promise. Pretty soon, I'll have enough money to get into a nicer place; one where I won't feel so bad if you come over to have dinner. Maybe I'll even have food that I don't have to cook in the microwave." He spoke with a chuckle as he used his free hand to open the fridge door, only to discover (much to his dismay) that he didn't have anything to cook in the microwave at the moment. He shut the door with a furrowed brow as he scratched his head and looked around the room again. "Besides, I'd rather live cheaply for a while if it means you can stay in the house. Gramps wanted you both to live in that house for your whole lives, and I'm going to make sure you get to keep it until you die at the ripe old age of one-hundred-and-fifty."<br/><br/>"<i>Oh, Conner, you're so sweet. But that's a long time from now, dear, and I don't know about going that long</i>."<br/><br/>"What are you talking about? That's like, what, three or four more years?"<br/><br/>"<i>Conner</i>!" His grandmother replied sharply, and he could tell from her voice she was trying hard to restrain a laugh.<br/><br/>"You know I'm just teasing, Grams," he replied with a wide grin of his own. Then there was a knock at his door. He looked at it, perplexed, and spoke again. "Grams, I gotta go, someone's at the door. Maybe I won a contest and they're delivering my multi-million dollar check. Speaking of which, you make sure you get to the bank and deposit that money. I've already budgeted around it, and I wanna make sure you have cash for all your meds and groceries." The motives were true, but the bit about a budget was laughable.<br/><br/>"<i>Oh, alright, dear, if you're sure</i>."<br/><br/>"I am." He started walking to the door.<br/><br/>"<i>Okay, okay. Be careful, Conner. I love you</i>."<br/><br/>"Love you, too, Grams." With that, he hung up and slipped his phone into his jeans' pocket. He undid the deadbolt on his door and swung it open halfway, peering around the door and into the crack between it and the frame. There stood a young man, right around Conner's age, wearing a comfy looking polo and khakis under a rather expensive looking leather jacket. His outfit, combined with his well-maintained physique and slicked back raven hair, made him stand out like a rich kid on the wrong side of town. Which, actually... Is exactly what Eddie Carpenter was.<br/><br/>"Conner!" Eddie exclaimed, throwing his hands up on either side in an exacerbated "What's up?" gesture. "I hope you're not too busy for your old pal."<br/><br/>"Hardly ever," Conner replied with a grin, opening the door entirely and taking his friend's hand in his own before they both leaned in and bumped their shoulders together while patting the other on the back. It was a gesture they had done countless times since childhood. "What brings you by?" Conner asked as he stepped aside, allowing his friend to enter.<br/><br/>"I'm here to pick you up, man," Eddie came in with a grin, then looked around as though expecting someone. "I thought I heard you talking to someone; were you on the phone? Perhaps with a special lady friend?" Eddie turned back to Conner, wiggling his dark eyebrows and nudging his friend with an elbow.<br/><br/>"Just Grams," Conner replied with chuckle and a roll of his eyes as he closed the door before turning back to his friend.<br/><br/>"Ah; she's special, but not the kind of special I was talking about."<br/><br/>"Yea, I figured that."<br/><br/>"She doin' okay?"<br/><br/>"She's good. Trying to get me to quit sending her money, as usual." He shrugged and started for the fridge, then stopped in his tracks and laughed (mostly to himself). "I'd offer you a beer, but uh..."<br/><br/>"All out, huh?"<br/><br/>"As per usual." Conner answered with a grin; his lack of funds didn't bother him much. Sure, he'd love to have all the nice things in life like beer and food in the fridge, a stove to cook on and utensils to cook with, a couch or a bed that didn't squeak with the slightest of movements. Man, a couch would be cool. But, as with many things he wanted, some things were just more important. Eddie grinned back at him, and he knew that Eddie knew what Conner was thinking. Their whole lives, Eddie had admired the altruistic tendencies of Conner while Conner had admired Eddie's humility and the ease at which he could make the crappiest of situations seem tolerable.<br/><br/>"Well, we're not staying long anyway." Eddie retorted, lightly punching his friend on the arm.<br/><br/>"Oh, yea, what are you picking me up for?"<br/><br/>"The rave, man!" Eddie exclaimed, suddenly seemingly genuinely put off by his friend's forgetfulness.<br/><br/>"Oh, shit!" Conner smacked himself in the forehead. "I totally forgot!"<br/><br/>"Well, I figured that," Eddie chortled before winking at Conner. "Judging by the wardrobe, or lack thereof, at least. You know I'd never let you leave the house like that."<br/><br/>"Huh?" Conner held his hands out and looked down at himself. He had no shoes on, only wearing blue jeans and a worn-down white undershirt. He laughed lightly before shaking his head and running a hand through his unkempt dark hair. "Yea, you wouldn't would you? Listen, Eddie, I'm kinda strapped for cash at the moment. Maybe you should take this one on your own."<br/><br/>"No way, dude! I've done the last three parties alone. You promised you'd be my wingman tonight and, most probably, my DD!" Eddie stuck an accusatory finger out toward his friend. "You're not getting out of this one. I'll pay for us to get in, and if you want a few drinks they're on me. But don't get crazy, I'm seriously very likely going to need you to carry my ass out of there tonight. You can crash at my place and, if I'm drunk enough, I'll even buy us burgers on the way home."<br/><br/>Conner hadn't eaten at all since yesterday, and the mention of burgers made his stomach do backflips of ecstatic joy. He hated when people paid for his stuff, not liking to feel like he was in anybody's debt. Which is why, he knew, Eddie was making it seem like a solid trade-off: He pays for everything if Conner makes sure it all goes smoothly. It was a thin veil, but Conner knew that Eddie came from money and that even they dropped hundreds tonight (which he was sure they would most certainly not) it wouldn't even put a dent in Eddie's monthly allowance.<br/><br/>"All right, all right... Lemme get changed real quick." Conner smiled, shaking his head, as he walked past Eddie to his closet which, at the moment, didn't even have a door.<br/><br/>"Fuck. Yes. The rave's going down at St. Elizabeth's; it's--"<br/><br/>"An abandoned hospital?" Conner interjected.<br/><br/>"<i>Yes</i>. The venue, the music, the booze and the girls... Tonight. Will. Be. Lege--"<br/><br/>"--ndary?" Conner looked over his shoulder, interjecting while he pulled the nicest shirt he owned (which was probably the equivalent of Eddie's<i>least</i>nicest shirt), a dark maroon dress shirt that he buttoned up over his ragged undershirt.<br/><br/>"I hate it when you steal my thunder." Eddie said with a smirk.<br/><br/>"Get some new lines." Conner chuckled while he slipped a pair of clean socks on before slipping an old pair of work boots that used to belong to his grandfather over them. He tied them quickly and then moved to the bathroom which, thankfully, did have a door. He applied some deodorant and even splashed a bit of aftershave onto his shoulders and neck. While looking in the small mirror over the sink, he tended to the mop on his head to make his hair look presentable, since anything more would require too much effort for his hair. He ran the back of his hand over the stubble on his face, noting that it had been almost a week since he'd shaved last. He shrugged his shoulders, feeling like he looked good enough to go move around in a dark place where everyone would be fucked up anyway.<br/><br/>"Excellent." Eddie said, coming up behind him and clapping Conner on the shoulder while meeting his gaze in the mirror. "Now quit worrying about looking fabulous; you'll be standing next to me, after all." They both grinned as they turned and headed for the door.<br/><br/>"You're right; unfortunately I don't think they make clothes I could wear to make you look better. Nobody dresses that poorly."<br/><br/>"Shuddup." Eddie stopped as he opened the door, looked down at his polo and pulled at it with two fingers. He looked up at Conner, a comically serious expression on his face. "I should ditch the polo, huh?"<br/><br/>"I wouldn't be caught dead in one," Conner replied before clapping Eddie on the shoulder and closing the door behind them.