Staten Island, 6pm.

You were friends with Claire, and were invited to a family dinner to meet Ray, and you had only met Scott a few times before.

You were sitting next to Claire, and Scott, quietly eating your meal as Scott was throwing sarcastic comments at Ray, lazily sitting there picking at his fries.

Scott turned to you, staring at your face, his eyes red and unfocused from smoking pot all day. You were the only person who didn’t tell him to shut up, which he silently appreciated.