Tracy watched as Cynthia threw herself into the bed, leaning back against the door until he heard a soft click. She was still bothered, it was written all over her expression. Maybe she would warm up to the house soon, and maybe he could get someone to come out tomorrow to look at lights, but that wasn't going to fix much. The fact of the matter was that her grandmother still died in this house, she was exhausted from moving, and to be fair the lights<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>kind of explode. She didn't feel safe in the house.<br/><br/>He made sure to lock the door behind him.<br/><br/>"Boardgames and booze sounds<span style="font-style: italic">great,</span>" he said, pushing himself from the door and sauntering over to the bed. Boardgames and booze was, in fact, great. It was their private little 'Netflix and chill.' It generally went one way or the other though; either they'd get drunk and make out, or they'd get drunk and marathon shows and binge-eat. Sometimes, on rare occasions, they'd get drunk, marathon shows, binge-eat,<span style="font-style: italic">and</span>make out, but that was a rarity. "Probably one of the last times I'll actually be able to get drunk for a while since school's back in next week."<br/><br/>If you had told Tracy ten years ago that he would one day teach Calculus to high school freshmen, he'd have either laughed or killed himself depending on how convincing you were. He didn't really like kids, but high schoolers he could at least relate to. When he thought about it, he had a lot in common with his students: neither of them wanted to talk, neither of them wanted to be there, and all of them were contemplating suicide by the time the class ended. Unfortunately though, he also<span style="font-style: italic">looked</span>the part of a teacher; unnecessarily tall, lanky, his hair was at least long enough to tuck behind his ears and get in his way, and sometimes he wore glasses when he was out of contacts. That sort of look got him beat up when he was a student, and honestly he didn't discount the fact that there were some freshmen that would kick his ass if he looked at them wrong. He'd admit it, no shame.<br/><br/>Tracy stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at Cynthia. She had unwittingly placed herself just so perfectly that she was in the center of the bed. In his experiences with having girlfriends, he'd made the ground-breaking discovery that there's some sort of weird girlfriend power that lets them be exactly where you need to be, all the time without meaning to. He thought about it, thought about it some more, and then stopped thinking about it altogether and crawled onto the bed, hovering over Cynthia for a moment before laying on top of her. Boyfriends had powers too, to be ridiculously annoying and have no remorse. He was a perfect example of abuse of power.