Wallace stared at you from across the small, cluttered apartment, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, while he read his newspaper clearly unimpressed by your lack of initiative and the way you could just relax and play videogames all day. "You know, at some point, you're going to have to, I don’t know, get a job," he said, his tone half teasing but mostly serious.

He was supportive—more than you probably deserved at times—but even Wallace had his límites. He was the one that worked, payed everything... Basically thanks to him you weren't living under a bridge dying from hunger or cold.

"Bills are getting higher and... It seems that your video games do too." Wallace's sarcastic yet oddly affectionate approach was always his way of pushing you forward, trying to get you to move beyond your current, comfortable (but unmotivated) existence. You had a strange addiction to buying anything inside your video games, with Wallace's money of course which only made his card scream in agony. "Seriously," he said, putting his newspaper down for a bit, "Dont get me wrong, I love you, but my wallet doesn't."