How to Name Your Cat

How to Make Your Money

Riots are fascinating.

Like the Brooklyn skyline at night, a thousand minds come together as one collective group. They're more powerful than ever like this.

Riots always make the front page.

The group aims to destroy. The group destroys.

The group aims to take a stand. The group stands.

Despite the panic and flurry of movement, the group stays together.

There is a sense of calm, as if they don't see what isn't right in front of them.

And what's right in front of them is fascinating.

Magnus considered the potentiality for a riot as a group of Wall Street protesters paraded hundreds of feet below him on the streets.

Would they get violent?

The potential was always there.

"We all have the potential," Magnus muttered.

Talking to himself was another one of the patterns of loneliness he hadn't quite broken yet.

His phone rang from it's place on the kitchen counter.

Magnus waltzed into the kitchen, sliding in his socks across the tile and grabbing the phone as he slid past.

"Hellllllo?" he answered.

"Magnus? Good. Are you home?"

"Are you calling about our one-week roomie anniversary?" Magnus asked. He jumped up on the counter. "I swear I didn't forget."

"One week? One week— what? Magnus! This is serious."

"You sound distressed," Magnus observed.

"I need a favor," Alec said.

"Anything," Magnus said. "Well, not anything. Almost anything—"

"My parents— they live in Manhattan. I told them I got a new apartment in Brooklyn and—"

"They're surprising you, aren't they?" Magnus asked. He jumped off the counter and ran a hand through his hair.

"Magnus, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Magnus said. "We just improvise."

"Improvise what? I'm an English major—"

"Really?"

"Yes, I— Doesn't matter! Please, I'll be there in 6 minutes—"

"Don't worry about a thing," Magnus said. "I'm very good at lying."

"We're not lying!"

"But you can't tell the truth either," Magnus said.

Alec made a strangled cat noise before hanging up.

Magnus became a tornado of activity for the next 6 minutes, picking up what little was laying around, and fixing himself up.

The elevator doors slid open and without a word, Alec joined him, brewing coffee, setting out mugs, cream, sugar, and wiping the counter top down.

Then the buzzer rang.

Alec sprinted over to the panel, letting them in.

There was a tense silent. Magnus waited patiently in the dining room as Alec danced from foot to foot.

How bad could his parents be?

They could hear the elevator arriving.

"And Magnus," Alec said, turning around quick. "Thank you."