Ghent Hydrilian brushed his long blond bangs back once more as he finished climbing the stairs and started to walk down the hallway. The chill from the outside air followed him in, clinging to him even after three flights of stairs. The heat had never been all that good in the building. He pulled his jacket tighter about his thin frame as he wandered down the hallway, his leather shoes clicking softly as he passed door after door. This hallway was becoming all too familiar. Ghent found himself wandering this way more than he would often like to admit.

He did not have time to contemplate it, worry about it, and complicate it, as he came up to the door that was his destination. Ghent sighed silently, and ran one of his long-fingered bony hands through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts before knocking. Ghent had known Trivan for almost years now, but there was still that prevailing sense of unease that haunted Ghent each time he came to this door. He could not pin- point exactly why, and that bothered him even more.

The door swished open, and Trivan Mandell stood, leaning on the door way. He was taller, with a broader frame and a strong jaw that made him look dignified despite his ruffled dark brown hair, that stuck up in various directions and fell down in front of his brown eyes. He was barely awake. He blinked at Ghent groggily, before shoving himself away from the wall and stumbling back into the room. It was the best invitation Ghent was going to get. He let himself in, carefully and silently shutting the door behind him. It was early morning, and most of the world was still resting. Ghent was surprised that Trivan was of a clear enough mind to open the door. The other man was usually a late riser, always bemoaning of long nights of labor or frivolities, or both at the same time.

Trivan stumbled back over to his bed and set down heavily, sighing and running his large hands through his hair. He was dressed in his work cloths, which were wrinkled from the night before and a mute testament that there had been little play before bed. Trivan put in shifts at the local Shartzer computer factory so that he could earn enough to eat. He was not picky and did not mind working the late shifts, but both he and Ghent had bigger game in mind that required much more effort than assembling part R390 with R391.

The place was a shit hole, and that was the best way to describe it. Trivan had never been one for being neat, and he preferred to spread his junk out as much as he could. Nothing escaped the mess other than a couple pathways on the floor that were a necessity. Clothing was the main culprit, being spread out across the room, draped over furniture or carelessly tossed to the floor. Beer cans and empty cigarette boxes placed runner up. Ghent had to struggle not to wrinkle his nose in distaste. He was some what accustom to the smell from having spent a fair amount of time in one bar or another, but he still could not see living in such a place. Even he bed did not escape the disaster. The sheets were still made as if no one had slept in it, but the bed was covered with discarded shirts and coats along with other items.

Trivan rolled over on to the bed and reached up behind his pillows. He had pulled his feet up on to the bed and lounged with out concern. He leaned back, laying across his bed, his head dangling off of the bed and a nearly empty cigarette box in one hand and a lighter in the other. He pulled out one and lit it before tossing both the box and the lighter onto the other end of the bed and towards Ghent. “I knew you’d come today.â€