The black Mustang squealed cacophonously as it whizzed around a corner. The stick-shift caught repeatedly as Seth tried to jam it in place, frustrated growls erupting from between his clenched teeth. Monroe couldn't figure out if he was grinning manically or grimacing, and didn't have the stomach to figure it out, choosing instead to stare at his own lap and clench the door with one hand and his seat with the other as the vehicle zoomed down the mostly empty streets near the Rodriguez home.

After Seth had rudely mocked Wil and Min's secret marriage, Margaret had given him a dirty look and told him, "Either be mature about this, or get out." Seth had started to sputter something unintelligible, and sensing that his brother was about to do something stupid, Wil had, mystifyingly enough, offered the keys to his shiny new Mustang; a stupid, and possibly costly mistake. Seeing this, Monroe had chosen to ride shotgun in order to make sure Seth wouldn't total his brother's car on purpose.

At this point in the ride, Monroe was praying that he'd make it out of the damn car alive.

Seth whirled around another corner... Something flitted through Monroe's peripheral vision.

"Seth!" he screeched, reaching for the wheel. Seth twisted the car away from the startled pedestrian just in time, fishtailing for a moment before pealing around the next corner. He jerked the wheel to the right and Monroe's teeth rattled as they skidded over the rough dirt and rock next to the asphalt. The nose of the car broke into the high wall of corn that lined this road, and they jerked to a halt, Seth cutting the engine abruptly.

In the sudden silence, their harsh breathing was thunderous. Seth pressed his forehead between his hands, still clenched at ten and two.

Monroe swallowed past his stopped heart and wheezed, "What the fuck."

"Shit shit shit fuck sorry I'm so sorry motherfucking shit," he heard Seth chanting below his breath.

"You could have killed that guy!" Monroe continued, not sure if the pedestrian had been male or female, but that was beside the point, "Could have killed us! What is your problem?!"

Seth didn't answer, instead continuing his chant for a few more endless minutes as they both slowly calmed down. Finally, he straightened and slumped back in his seat, his hands stiffly relaxing, tracing the outline of the steering wheel until they fell limply into his lap.

"You okay?" he mumbled.

"Relatively," Monroe answered, slouching into his seat as well.

"Sorry," Seth muttered again.

"Would you rather I'd been hurt?" Monroe asked, a faint feeling of hysteria still tingling in his throat.

"No. No. I- sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I know what you meant."

"...Sorry."

"Stop saying that. It's creeping me out," Monroe said honestly. Seth turned wide, shell-shocked eyes in his direction. Seeing Monroe's face made him blink slowly and finally come back to his senses.

"Did- did that guy...?" he began, unsure how to ask.

"I didn't feel any impact, so I think he's still in one piece," Monroe commented, wincing when he saw Seth's distressed expression, "He's fine. He fine. Calm down."

Seth faced front and took a deep, shuddering breath, "Okay. Okay, okay, okay," he paused, a thoughtful look crossing his features, "Did I mention I'm not the best of drivers?"

"Three days ago," Monroe nodded, remembering. Seth attempted to laugh, the sound coming out shaky and forced. The two of them sat in silence for awhile, both of them staring unseeingly at the green stalks of corn just outside the windshield.

"Is there any reason in particular that you're a raving lunatic behind the wheel?" Monroe asked, breaking the quiet.

"No," Seth chuckled, sounding more natural this time, "No particular reason I can think of."

Monroe wasn't sure how to phrase his next query in a way that wouldn't enrage Seth again, "What about... um, your brother? And- that whole... thing?"

Seth frowned, his expression growing dark, "Oh, yeah. That," he grasped the steering wheel again, tracing the leather with his fingertips absentmindedly, "I dunno. I guess I kind of really wanted to bang up Wil's brand-spankin' new ride, y'know?" Monroe nodded in acknowledgment, his suspicions confirmed. Seth continued, saying, "I mean, seriously. Why would he trust his ride with me? He knows I hate him. What a jackass," he shook his head, his expression quietly condescending, "Fuck. I can't believe he eloped like that. He knew- he knew mom'n'dad wanted formal weddings for us- Well, I guess just for him, 'cause I ain't gettin' married ever, and God knows about Wendy. Anyway, Wil's just a goddamn inconsiderate jackass for going behind their backs like that. Three months. Fuck." His fingers twitched around his pants pockets, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As he lit up, he glanced in Monroe's direction, then swung the door open, the bottom of it grating against the rocks outside. He felt too nervous to start up the engine in order to roll his window down. He took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment, before blowing it outside in a long stream. Then, he continued, "At least now, Mom'll know that I have plenty of reason to hate Wil. She'll have seen his true jackassy self," he paused to take another drag, then laughed bitterly, "Or not. Because Wil can do no fucking wrong."

Monroe waited for Seth to continue his rambling, but instead, he sat silently smoking, staring out his open door. He'd learned a lot of mostly negative things about his roommate in the past three minutes, and wasn't sure how to address the fact. He bit his lip, choosing his words carefully, "Why is it exactly that you hate your brother so much?"

Seth looked at him as though he'd explained this a million times already, "'Cause he's a prick."

Monroe closed his eyes, fighting back irritation, "Yes. We've established that you think he's a jerk, but you haven't explained why."

"You fucking know why-" Seth hissed.

Monroe's eyes snapped open, and he gave his roommate a scathing glare, "No, Seth, I do not know why. You have never told me why."

Seth paused under that look, shocked by Monroe's attitude. He looked away, toward his half-burned cigarette, chagrin etched clearly on his face, "I-," he began, then stopped, suddenly remembering the conversation he'd had with his mother two nights ago. After he'd reluctantly admitted his feelings for Monroe, Margaret had brought up some other things that had evidently been on her mind regarding his relationship with his roommate. So he said what he said next in an attempt to change the subject, but ended up making the conversation even more awkward and uncomfortable, "Monroe, do you ever get the impression that I'm using you?"

"Wh...at?" Monroe dragged the word out, suffering mental whip-lash.

"I mean, uh, that, do I ever come across as taking advantage of your politeness? Which is... the same thing as using you. Fuck," Seth shifted in his seat, planting his feet on the dirt outside. He hunched over himself, trying to hide the heat flaring in his face, but Monroe could see it spreading to the back of his neck, "Christ. I mean. If I do come across that way, I, uh, don't mean to. And I guess I don't realize I do it if I do. I guess, like, it's in my nature to be an schmo... I guess. So I don't do it on purpose. 'Cause... stuff," he finally trailed off, wishing he'd just fessed up to why he hated Wil.

"Um... wow," was Monroe's eloquent response. Seth hunched deeper into himself, taking a particularly long drag from the remaining nub of his cigarette, "I... wow. I don't know... what to say."

"'Yes' or 'no' would be nice," Seth mumbled.

"That's not really something I can just say 'yes' or 'no' to," Monroe observed, trying to avoid answering. He'd never have expected Seth to bring up such a personal subject, let alone consider such a thing. He was completely floored by this entire turn of events.

Seth heaved a huge sigh, "You know what, just forget I said anything," he resigned himself to answering Monroe's questions should he bring up his brother again. Anything to put this weirdness behind them.

Monroe stayed quiet for a long moment, then hesitantly inhaled, preparing to speak. He'd decided to respect Seth's honesty and speak honestly himself, "I suppose you could say that, if I did get the impression that you take advantage of me, that I don't do much to stop you."

It was Seth's turn not to speak. He thought about throwing Monroe's "wow" back in his face, but decided against it. He really didn't know what to say. Monroe's answer made him feel bad, for Christ's sake. What was that?

On the other end, Seth's silence caused a wave of anxiety to crawl up Monroe's stomach. Had he said to much? Had he made the moment worse than it already was?

Regaining his composure, Seth sat properly in his seat again and said, "I'm seriously not into this honesty crap," punctuating the sentence by flicking the butt of his cigarette out the door.

Monroe let out a breathy laugh, still feeling unsettled. As Seth gripped the steering wheel out of habit again, Monroe glimpsed the black rose tattoo on his inner left forearm, and suddenly remembered a recent conversation with Wil.

"Has Seth ever told you the story behind the tattoo of a griffin on his back?"

"No, I didn't know there was one."

"You should ask him about it sometime."

Monroe didn't want to ask about the griffin right away, because Seth might ask why he'd suddenly thought to ask, and he obviously didn't want to talk about Wil anymore. So Monroe eased into the subject by asking about the rose, since he could easily explain that curiosity away.

"A story behind this?" Seth asked, indicating his arm. He looked taken aback by the question, but not unwilling to answer, so Monroe nodded, "Well... it's kind of embarrassing," but not as embarrassing as a couple of minutes ago, "I had a girlfriend in high school named Rosalita. My first girlfriend, actually, and I guess I kind of got enthusiastic," he shrugged, looking nostalgic, "I got it when I was fifteen. Mom nearly castrated me when she found out I used a fake ID to get it," he laughed, as if remembering the good ol' days.

Monroe shook his head, "Why am I not surprised?" He smiled at Seth, only being half-sarcastic when he said, "So, did you get the barbed-wire when you dated a guy named Spike?"

Seth chuckled, "Naw, man, I got it 'cause it looks cool."

Monroe couldn't help but laugh with him, "So... the griffin?" he asked hesitantly.

Seth's good humor faded with his smile. He stared out the windshield, his dark blue eyes blank. "My... grampa," he answered quietly. Then he brightened visibly, all smiles again, turning his attention toward his roommate, "My grampa- not mi abuelo, but my mom's dad- he was this great soldier guy during World War II and 'Nam, and when I was kid, he would tell me all these awesome things. I think they were meant to educate me on how easily a person can change under certain circumstances, but I remember them as just these super cool action stories. Anyway, gramps got the nickname "The Griffin" while in service, so... I could tell you the story myself, but I don't think I could do it justice. Only he could really tell it... So I guess you're out of luck," Seth smile had faded somewhat at this point. Monroe could see pain layered behind his expression. He didn't regret bringing it up, though. He liked seeing Seth talk so reverently about someone.

"You must have really loved him," Monroe observed.

"How did you know he was dead?" Seth asked sharply.

Monroe paused, realizing he'd heard it from Wil, "You... were talking in the past tense, so I just guessed...," he half-lied.

"Oh. Right..."

"So the griffin tattoo is a kind of tribute to him?" Monroe quickly diverted attention from his little slip-up.

"Yeah. But I got it way before he died," Seth admitted, then laughed self-depreciatingly, "I was such a fanboy back then. I started dying my hair black because his was...," he stopped, realizing he had admitted to dying his hair, something no one outside of his immediate family, not even his friends, knew, "Uh, yeah. I dye my hair. That's kind of weird, I know. But I also do it because it annoys me that my hair and eyebrows don't match. I mean, my eyebrows are black, but my hair is brown? What is that?" Seth had rambled a lot in just the last hour.

"I already knew you-," Monroe cut off, realizing he'd just betrayed himself.

Seth squinted his eyes at him, "Who told you?"

Damnit. "Wil," Monroe admitted, feeling like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Wil," Seth repeated. He looked at Monroe a moment longer, before his eyes wandered away, his expression changing ominously, "...is such... a prick."

"You don't have to be so sensitive about your hair-"

"I'm not talking about my hair!" Seth snapped, making Monroe jump in his seat. Seth leaned over, breathing very hard all of a sudden, "My grampa... was so sick... for so- goddamn- long. So goddamn long. It- it hurt to see him- to see such a strong man bed-ridden- unable to even piss by himself- for months. And- and then he knew- he just knew- that the day was coming and-," Seth's voice broke. Monroe's eyes widened in astonishment. Seth's face was contorted, tears welling in his eyes. But he looked more angry than sad, "And he just- just wanted to see the family together again- just once- just one last time," Seth looked Monroe in the eyes, ignoring the first tears streaking down his cheeks, "And you know what? Not everyone showed up. That- that fucking asshole- didn't show up. Didn't heed grampa's last fucking request and- and I just can't forgive him for that."

Seth's voice went quiet near the end of his explanation, the sadness finally catching up with him. He wiped at his face as more tears started to fall, looking at Monroe briefly, not wanting to be seen like this. But the look on Monroe's face gave him pause, and he couldn't fight back the next wave of grief.

"Oh... Seth...," Monroe whispered. He swallowed, feeling the sharp lump in his throat for the first time. Seth covered his eyes, trying to fight back the emotion that he was feeling, but Monroe's hand found his back and started rubbing, and there was no fighting it then.