[ There's absolutely some stupid party going on, but it's not at Steve's. He showed up briefly earlier in the evening to put in an appearance and make nice with people. He even manages to stay for about an hour before he gets utterly bored with everything, slipping out before anyone can even notice.
Now that he's home, it's . . . nice. Nice and quiet, which is a sharp contrast to what he used to be all about. It helps that the Harringtons are Yet Again out of town — his father off on a business trip in New York while his mother is attending seminars in Chicago. Steve grabs a beer out of the fridge and flops down on his couch, cracking it open and knocking it back.
The motion from outside catches his attention first. He jerks his head towards the window, immediately tensing up. A crack from the underbrush sends him to his feet, walking with purpose towards the garage. Within seconds, he's fetched the nailbat from his trunk and crept around to the back of his house, weapon up and ready. Whatever it is? It better not be another damn demothing. ]
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Now that he's home, it's . . . nice. Nice and quiet, which is a sharp contrast to what he used to be all about. It helps that the Harringtons are Yet Again out of town — his father off on a business trip in New York while his mother is attending seminars in Chicago. Steve grabs a beer out of the fridge and flops down on his couch, cracking it open and knocking it back.
The motion from outside catches his attention first. He jerks his head towards the window, immediately tensing up. A crack from the underbrush sends him to his feet, walking with purpose towards the garage. Within seconds, he's fetched the nailbat from his trunk and crept around to the back of his house, weapon up and ready. Whatever it is? It better not be another damn demothing. ]