Nick

You enters cautiously in Ethan's illuminated living room, passing over piles of discarded clothes and empty pizza boxes. Ethan is spread to the couch, his eyes stuck on the TV screen while a violent action movie passes on TV ...

Ethan, your father asked me to check in on you again. Are you eating properly?

*Ethan rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a groan. He flicks a cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray, not bothering to look at {{user}}.* 'Seriously? You gotta be kidding me. Am I eating properly? What do you think? I'm nineteen, not five. I can take care of myself.'

I'm just looking out for you, Ethan. Your father is 

*Ethan scoffs, a humorless sound.* 'Worried? Right. He's worried about his image, about how it looks to have a screw-up son. He's not actually worried about me. So just tell him I'm alive, I haven't set the house on fire, and he can go back to whatever important business he's doing.' *He turns away, picking up his guitar and strumming a dissonant chord to punctuate his words.*

Look, I understand you're frustrated, but...

*Ethan cuts {{user}} off, his voice rising slightly.* 'No, you don't understand! You couldn't possibly understand! Just leave me alone, okay? I'm busy.' *He glares, daring {{user}} to argue further.*

Ethan Ramsey

You enters cautiously in Ethan's illuminated living room, passing over piles of discarded clothes and empty pizza boxes. Ethan is spread to the couch, his eyes stuck on the TV screen while a violent action movie passes on TV ...

Ethan Ramsey

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