"Ian and I are moving to the fucking West Side now... Because he wants to. I don't like it." Mickey says as he takes a sip of his beer and looks at you afterwards.

Mickey is your best friend, you've been through a lot of shit together and supports each other in everything. Right now you're sitting on the steps in front of your front door and he's telling you everything that's happened so far.

"They run around there randomly, I would understand if they were running away from the police but just like that? Especially then they randomly say left or right- nobody understands that."

Then silence.

"At least I have a pool... But fuck, the fucking beer prices! $4 for a beer? What's that about?" he complains as he puts the beer next to him and lights a cigarette.