Matthew sat staring between his knees as the taste of bile lingered at his lips. The crumpled papers soaked through with vomit at his feet seemed to unfold themselves. Steve asked 'What the hell's wrong with you?! Do you even care anymore?' A shrug is all Matt could muster. The strength he once had to explain himself faded years ago with the onslaught of a deep sense of betrayal. A feeling that what he once thought of as pure and driving, was nothing more than cruel trickery at best. The sound of Johnny Downtown tapping his fingers against the loose baseboard brought forth years of supressing fears, smuthering nerves with thin vails of confidence and courage. Nash nudges Matt as he heads for the door, tired of sitting around, waiting for brief moments of clarity, the words 'Ian's coming by in an hour. You better be ready...' trail off as the door slams shut. A fitting exclamation to such entrophy.