SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1984

Eddie is walking home on an ordinary November night. He barely feels the chill in the air after that sample bump of Special K Rick gave him to try. He’s drifting in a fluffy cloud, feet carrying him where he needs to go. Until he trips and lands in the dirt, hands sluggishly coming up to catch himself. He hoists himself up and looks down at the plank of wood that his boot got caught on. 

Merrill’s Farm sign, broken to pieces, looks up at him from the ground. Jeez, Merrill’s gonna have a field day about that, the guy’s already been telling anyone that’ll listen that Eugene McCorkle poisoned his pumpkin patch. Lost the whole damn crop. It was quite the kerfuffle around town, some people ended up going to Bloomington to get their pumpkins this year since the supermarket sold out. 

Wayne always fills Eddie in on all the comings and goings of Hawkins. Despite Eddie’s belief that small-town gossip is a complete waste of his brain space, he can’t help but get invested in the petty dramas that befall their fellow citizens. 

Eddie stumbles across the decrepit field, avoiding the rotten pumpkin carcasses to the best of his ability. He’s so busy looking down that he barely registers the car ahead of him.

What the fuck is Hargrove’s Camero doing in the middle of a field?

The owner of the vehicle is nowhere to be seen, headlights on, doors left ajar… what the fuck is going on? No one with a gorgeous beauty like this would ever leave their precious baby exposed to the elements. Let alone someone as intense as Hargrove. Eddie saw the guy threaten some freshman who had the gal to lean against it in the school parking lot just the other day. 

Something strange is afoot, and Eddie’s interest is piqued. Maybe it’s the devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear telling him to get closer and see what’s going on. He’s on the right side of high and willing to ignore the voice in his head saying, “Mind your own damn business and go home.”   

So he gives into temptation and walks towards the car, halting his steps when he hears yelling, screams, voices overlapping in a distant cacophony. As he gets closer he sees three kids scramble out of a hole in the field, all of them yelling down into it. A few moments pass, and Eddie’s about to ask if they’re alright before another couple of kids crawl out too, one of them taller than the rest. They’re all decked out in goggles, masks, and gloves, almost like a sad garden shed Halloween costume party that they’re a few days late for. 

Curiouser and curiouser. 

They don’t seem to see him with the headlights shining in their faces, especially when the light swells, getting inexplicably brighter. Eddie’s worked on cars, he’s never seen a surge of energy like that, especially not without anyone in the car. 

He continues towards them, opens his mouth to announce his presence, but one of his feet lands in a pumpkin, makes him slip and slide, falling back on his ass and yelping. 

That gets their attention, and their ringleader, the tallest guy lifts his goggles up on top of his head and pulls down his bandana. He’s beaten to shit, bloody and covered in colorful band-aids, but there’s no mistaking that face. 

Art by Toktopus, updated 2025 version

“Are you okay?” 

“Harrington?” Eddie asks, dumbfounded, as if saying the name aloud will somehow snap his stoner brain out of whatever weird hallucination he’s in. 

Steve Harrington holds his gloved hand out to Eddie, hauling him to his feet. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Munson? It’s not safe.”

“You know this guy, Steve?” one of the kids asks, voice and stature giving away his age as he gets closer to Eddie. His curly hair is sticking out of his baseball cap, makeshift bandana still covering his mouth, but Eddie doesn’t think he knows him. Then again, he doesn’t tend to hang out with middle schoolers, which begs the question: 

What in the hell is Steve Harrington doing in a hole in the ground in the middle of Merrill’s Farm with a group of children and Billy Hargrove’s car?

“Uh, kinda…this is Eddie, The Fr—Munson, Eddie Munson,” Harrington says, barely catching himself from calling Eddie ‘The Freak’. Frankly, Eddie’s shocked that the situation warrants such kind courtesy from the King of Hawkins High. 

“Steve! We don’t have time for this!” whines the kid who most resembles a beanpole, his lip curled in distaste. 

“Alright! Jeez, keep your shirt on Wheeler,” Harrington snaps. He’s got one hand resting on his hip and he’s clearly exasperated with his cohorts. “Get in the car.”

The lone girl in their midst, a redhead, steps towards the driver’s side door before Harrington throws out an arm to halt her. “Absolutely not, never again, no.”

“It’s not even your car, Steve,” Red snarks at him.

“Well, it’s not yours either, so shut up and get in. Not in the front, let Munson take the front.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open, “Uh…what?”

“Get in, Munson, it’s not safe out here.”

“So you said,” replies Eddie, waiting for an explanation that never comes. Harrington turns away and gets into the driver's seat, eyeing him expectantly.  

Apparently, Eddie has no say in the matter, and he’s just out of it enough that he ends up taking the path of least resistance and getting into the car alongside King Steve and his merry band of misfits.

What a wild night this is turning out to be. 

It’s a bit of a hullabaloo getting the four kids in the backseat, Red ends up on one of the boy's laps but Eddie catches a little smile on his face even while he grumbles about it. Cute. Harrington drives out of the pumpkin patch, heading god knows where, but Eddie’s along for the ride now.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“I’ve gotta get these shit heads back to the Byer’s place, and then I’ll take you home,” Harrington says. The guy sounds exhausted, maybe a little out of it himself, but definitely not in the same way Eddie is. Probably due to the set of shiners he’s currently sporting. 

“Uh, not to be nosey or anything but—uh…” Eddie trails off, trying to think of a nice way to ask why Harrington currently looks like roadkill, but the words evade him so he just gestures in the general direction of Harrington’s face. 

“Hargrove,” Harrington replies darkly, eyes flicking up to look at the kids in the backseat through the rearview. 

“Let me guess, he looks a lot worse?” Eddie asks, ignoring the beanpole in the backseat when he snorts.

“More like Max had to put him out before he pummeled Steve to death,” replies the kid behind Red’s—Max, Eddie’s guessing—hair proudly. 

Eddie turns to look at her, “Nice work, Red.” She grins at him in response. 

“So that’s what this is all about? A little joy ride in retaliation?”

“Obviously not, there are many factors at play here—” Curly replies in a snotty tone. 

“Factors that Munson does not need to know about,” Harrington says with a sense of finality. 

“You’re the one who brought him along,” argues Beanpole—did Harrington call him Wheeler? As in Nancy Wheeler? As in Nancy Wheeler Steve Harrington’s girlfriend? Though the Hawkins High rumor mill has been churning out stories of their relationship’s demise for the past few days. Ever since some kind of incident at Tina Lewinsky’s Halloween Party that Eddie missed out on while he was selling in the backyard.

“I couldn’t just leave him out there, Mike. What if those things came back?” Harrington argues. Eddie’s almost flattered at this completely uncharacteristic concern for his safety. 

“Those things are probably going after El right now, so could you please stop driving like a grandma and step on it!” Little Wheeler—Mike—sounds a bit panicked, and even though Eddie doesn’t know half of what’s happening, Harrington seems to understand that the kid means business. 

Eventually, they pull into the Byer’s driveway. Eddie only knows their house from when he and Wayne helped out with the search for Will Byers last year. They were both sad to hear that Will’s body had been found in the quarry, and then in turn they were completely stumped when the kid showed up alive, apparently lost in the woods. Come to think of it Eddie can’t remember if the body they found ever was identified. 

The kids are out of the car before Harrington can even put it in park, running towards the house, Little Wheeler is in front, his gangly limbs windmilling comically as he comes to a halt in the open doorway. 

“He’s gone!”

“Who’s gone?” Eddie asks, taking in the broken front window, glass shattered across the floor.

“Hargrove,” Harrington responds, stepping into the house cautiously, shoulders raised. 

Now, Eddie isn’t one to judge, he lives with his uncle in a trailer that looks like two men live in it, so it’s not like he’s living in the lap of luxury with a maid that visits twice a week—that’s more Harrington’s speed, but the place is…a mess. Weird crayon drawings cover every surface of the house, there’s food all over the floor in the kitchen and a bunch of broken furniture around. 

The kids tear through the house, yelling, “Will? El?”

“Guess they’re not back yet guys,” says Harrington as he sits down on the couch heavily. 

“We’ve got to go find them!” Mike says desperately.

“Best to just wait for them here Mike. That was the plan, we’re all meeting back here, if we leave we might miss them,” Harrington says, quite reasonably Eddie has to admit. However, Mike doesn’t seem to agree since he makes an angry noise and stomps off down the hall. 

The rest of the kids move to follow him, but Harrington halts the curly-haired one in his tracks. “Henderson, get me some peas or something from the freezer if you didn’t chuck it all on the ground with the rest of Mrs. Byer’s food.”

Eddie hovers awkwardly, not quite sure if he should sit down next to Harrington or not. This night has veered into bizarro territory and he’s finally coming down from his high enough to question what the fuck is going on here.

“Why’d the kid toss all the food?” asks Eddie, still looking around curiously at the drawings all over the walls, it’s like some kind of fucked up map that makes no sense. Demented enough to give him some inspiration for his next campaign. 

In fact, he spots a Monster Manual out on the table, sitting open to the page on Mind Flayers. Eddie skims the text, he wouldn’t say he knows the whole manual from start to finish but he’s reread it enough times that it’s all vaguely familiar. 

“Do you play?” Asks Curly—Henderson—tossing a bag of peas carelessly in Harrington’s direction as he makes his way over to Eddie. 

Eddie pulls a D20 out of his pocket as proof, “‘Course! Though, since I started running the club I tend to DM the games more than play in them now.” 

The kid lights up, pearly teeth flashing as he grins. “Wow, really? There’s a club? In Hawkins?”

“At Hawkins High, yes, little man. The Hellfire Club,” Eddie says proudly. It’s not every day that he’s got kids looking up to him. Most of the people his age—or younger now he supposes, after that pesky nuisance of being held back—tend to look down on him for being a geek and a freak. 

“Cool,” Henderson says, seems like he really means it. “Mike! Lucas! Eddie’s got a D&D club!” He calls out to his friends, finally filling in Eddie on the third kid’s name. They really ought to have done introductions before dragging Eddie on this side quest of theirs. 

The boys surround him, all talking at once. “Wow!” “Really?” “When can we join?”

Max trails after the boys, scoffing, “What about me, Dustin?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Well, you’re not part of The Party,” Dustin says with finality, shooting a look over at Lucas. 

Little Red huffs even harder, looking angry and put out, but the curl of her lip betrays her, like she doesn’t want to show how much those words hurt her. The boys don’t seem to notice it, but Eddie does. He’s about to ask her something, to try and include her, but she beats him to the punch. 

“I drove! I’m the Zoomer!” she says defensively, throwing her arm out and gesturing towards the front of the house. 

She’s not helping her case, since Zoomer isn’t a class, and Dustin looks like he’s a bit of a stickler for the rules of the game. 

“And you’re never driving again, Jesus Christ,” Harrington says. He’s got his head resting on the back of the couch now, bag of peas over his face muffling his words slightly. “Thought I was gonna die.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Steve,” Mike snarks.

“Steve’s not a baby! Billy almost killed him! Plus, he faced off against those demodogs alone! He’s a badass!” Dustin screeches in Harrington’s defense. 

“Demodogs?” Eddie asks, bewildered. 

“Henderson, keep your trap shut. Munson doesn’t need to know any of this, you’re gonna get us in even more shit,” Harrington lifts the bag to glare at the kid before letting it fall back over his bruised face. 

Eddie’s getting pretty tired of this whole song and dance, why has he been dragged along on this misfit’s misadventure if he doesn’t get to actually know what the fuck is going on. It’s like he rolled a one on his perception check and he’s walking around in the dark. 

Before Eddie can argue and demand answers, there’s a flash of headlights across the front of the house. Everyone perks up, on high alert. Mike crosses to the broken window and pulls aside the curtain to look out. 

“It’s them!” He doesn’t say who ‘them’ is but Eddie assumes ‘they’ include the El that the kid has been shouting about for the past half hour.

Just when he thinks he’s seen it all Eddie’s treated to the sight of Chief Hopper crossing the threshold, a girl under his arm around the same age as the other kids. She looks like a little punk, hair slicked back and black makeup around her eyes. Her face also has smears of red on it—blood, Eddie guesses, but there’s no sign of any wounds. She looks exhausted as Mike runs up to her and hugs her. 

“Easy,” Hopper says gently, “She needs rest.” 

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas surround her, guiding her down the hall and telling her that she can lie down in Will’s room. 

Chief Hopper stares at Eddie, looking bone tired and completely unimpressed. “Munson,” he says gruffly, and Eddie nods in return. “What are you doing here?”

“Look chief, this one isn’t on me at all. I got dragged along for the ride and I’ve got no clue what’s going on.”

Hopper looks like he’s about to lecture him more before he takes in the sight of the rest of the place, the drawings on the walls and the broken glass doesn’t seem to surprise him, but the state of the kitchen does.

“What the hell happened in here? This is the last thing Joyce needs.”

Harrington groans, lifting the bag off his face. “Don’t look at me, Henderson wanted to keep one in the name of science,” he jerks his thumb in the direction of the hall that the kids went down. 

“Jesus, kid, what happened to your face?” asks Hopper, looking at Harrington with concern. 

“My brother came looking for me,” Max speaks up, lingering in the hallway, clearly left out of whatever’s happening with the other kids. 

Billy Hargrove is her brother?

“And he came looking with his fists?”

“Pretty much,” Harrington says, sounding exhausted. “Said he’d been to the Wheeler’s as well.”

“All their parents are probably wondering where they are…” Hopper trails off, looking conflicted as he glances after the kids. 

“I can take her home, if you want,” Harrington speaks up. “Should probably take Munson home now, if it’s over… it is over right?”

“Seems to be, I’m just waiting for the suits to show up,” Hopper says, eyes flicking to the door. “Probably best if you get them out of here before that happens since they weren’t involved last year.”

Suits? It’s like every sentence these people say is a warped puzzle piece and Eddie’s trying to fit it all together in his mind but failing horribly. Nothing makes sense, but least of all the fact that Steve Harrington seems to want to keep him safe from some unknown entity. 

Harrington gets up slowly from the couch, limbs stiff like he’s in pain. He probably needs a doctor, or at least some hefty pain meds. Eddie wonders if he’s gonna go to the hospital at some point. 

“Let’s boogie then,” says Harrington, gesturing for Eddie and Max to follow him. 

Outside, Eddie looks between Hargrove’s Camaro and Harrington’s Beamer in the driveway, unsure which ride they’re taking. 

“Shit,” Harrington says under his breath. “You take the Camaro and I’ll follow you?” He asks, holding out the keys to Eddie. It feels too good to be true, driving a beauty of her caliber, but then Eddie looks at Harrington’s face again and thinks otherwise. 

“Nah, man. What if Hargrove catches me driving his baby and beats my face worse than yours?”

Harrington looks unimpressed, “I am not letting you drive my car, Munson.”

“Ah, c’mon Harrington, live a little! I’ll be good, promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart in demonstration, cajoles his face into his most innocent and convincing expression. 

To his credit, Harrington doesn’t smile, but it’s a close thing, a quirk of his lips that betrays his amusement at Eddie’s antics, and fuck if that isn’t better than a bump. He’ll be riding on the high of entertaining King Steve for the rest of his days. 

“Or, I could just drive myself home,” Max says, trying to snatch the Camaro’s keys out of Harrington’s hand, but he’s too fast for her. 

“I already told you, Max. No. Way. In. Hell,” Harrington puts his hands on his hips and stares her down before letting out a put-upon sigh and looking over at Eddie again. “Alright, fine, but Munson, you’re following me, and you’re driving like you’ve got your grandma in the car.”

Eddie takes the keys from Harrington’s outstretched hand, twirling them around his finger. “No sweat, Harrington, I’ll be careful with your girl.”

So that’s how Eddie ends up spending this random Sunday night, the weirdest night he’s ever had in his life, driving Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s car around Hawkins, and he didn’t even hot wire the thing, the man himself handed over the keys! Wonders never cease. Too bad it’s the middle of the night, otherwise, he’d do a victory tour and wave at everyone he passes by. 

They drive down Cherry Tree Lane, and Eddie pulls to a stop behind the Camaro on the side of the road, leaves the motor of the Beamer running as Harrington and Max get out of the car. They exchange a few words and Harrington pats her on the back, watching as she walks towards a little white house with the lights on. The door opens up and a woman with red hair steps out, wrapping her arms around Max, hugging her, and then holding her back by her shoulders, speaking sternly to her. Max nods and gets led inside, her mother turning back around to look at them.

Harrington slips into the passenger seat and urges Eddie on, “Drive, man, I don’t wanna have her mom yelling at me right now, or have to come up with some sort of excuse for why we’re bringing her daughter home at two in the morning.” 

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice, he steps on the gas and drives off down the street. He’s waiting for Harrington to tell him to pull over so they can swap, but the guy just lounges in the passenger seat, body finally relaxing now that he’s off babysitting duty. They’re not far from the trailer park so he heads in that direction, desperate to get home and get a joint in his mouth.

“So, you gonna fill me in at all on what the fuck all that was?” Eddie asks, voice rising in pitch as he screeches out the last few words. 

“You do not want to know, trust me,” Harrington says, with some sense of finality. 

“Oh, but I do, Harrington. It’s probably going to keep me up at night wondering. I won’t be able to stop, and then I’ll come ask you about it, over and over and over again until you tell me. We don’t know each other man, but I can be quite persistent. So you might as well save yourself the trouble now, and just tell me. I’m just looking out for your reputation, don’t want you to be seen with The Freak around school, what would your little buddies think?”

Harrington scoffs, “What buddies? The ones that already worship the guy that just beat the shit out of me? Yeah, right.” 

Actually, he does have a point there, Eddie thinks. The King dethroned by his own kind, any other day Eddie might call it poetic justice, but Harrington’s nothing like what he thought he’d be. Maybe it’s just the setting, the company, that’s making the guy act different than what Eddie would expect. He won’t know for sure until they’re back at school and that preppy rich boy mask slides back into place. 

“Hmmm,” Eddie muses. “What about weed?”

“What about it?”

“Do you smoke?”

“You know that I do, Munson, I’ve bought it from you before. What’s your point?”

“I’ll trade you, weed for answers,” Eddie explains. 

“I dunno man, I could get in a lot of trouble. We signed papers and shit.”

“What, like, NDAs? What the fuck are you all involved in? Does this have something to do with the Byers, and how that kid showed up dead but then he wasn’t dead?” Eddie wonders aloud. 

“Kinda…seriously Munson, I’m trying to do you a favor. It’s over, there’s things you’re better off not knowing, trust me.”

“Hard for me to trust you when I don’t even know you, dude.”

Harrington sighs, scrubs his hand over his face, and then flinches when he seems to realize how tender it still is. He turns away from Eddie, looking out the window at the dark houses passing by. 

With no further instruction from the guy in the passenger seat, Eddie drives home, pulling into Forest Hills and driving up to their trailer. Wayne’s working a night shift, as usual, so Eddie has the place to himself. He cuts the engine and turns toward Harrington. “Last chance man, you wanna come in for a smoke?”

“Your… parents won't mind?” 

“Nah, it’s just me and my uncle, but he’s out…he works nights at the plant.”

“Alright then, Munson. Show me what you got.”

Eddie passes Harrington back his keys, and pulls his own out of his pocket. He’s momentarily embarrassed when he opens the trailer door. He and Wayne don’t live like complete slobs but they certainly don’t live like kings. He kicks his shoes off and surveys the threshold, it doesn’t look half bad to him, but he grabs the dishes he left out on the coffee table anyway. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, make yourself at home, Harrington,” Eddie says with a sweeping gesture at the couch. 

Harrington settles on the couch with no complaints, spreads his legs and splays out, looks bone weary.

“Hey, man, your face still hurt? You want some pain meds? More peas?”

Harrington looks up, surprise clear on his face. “Yeah, thanks, Munson.”

Eddie grabs some water and a bottle of Aspirin, starts rifling in the freezer, he carries everything over and deposits it on the table. “It’s mixed veggie medley but I figure you’re not picky,” Eddie says with a cheeky smirk, and earns himself a smile in response. Much to his chagrin, he finds that he doesn’t really mind playing nursemaid to King Steve.

Harrington pops a couple of pills and takes a long swallow from the glass. “Seriously, thanks, dude.” He leans back on the couch again, pressing the frozen veggies to his face and groaning. 

“You gonna be okay, Harrington?” Eddie asks, “We don’t have to smoke up if you don’t want to. We can just hang.”

Harrington levels a look at him that he can’t decipher. “Just call me Steve, man. And yeah nice try, bucko, I came in here under the promise of free weed and I mean to collect.”

Eddie scoffs, “Never said it was free, Steve.”  

He grabs his lunchbox where he left it on the table and pulls out a joint. As much as he’d like to show off his rolling skills he’d much rather get stoned out of his gourd as soon as possible. Eddie lights the joint, inhaling until the cherry catches and takes a big puff. He holds the joint out to Steve—because yeah, they’re using first names now, what the fuck? —blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. Normally he smokes in his room, or at least opens a window since Wayne hates when the trailer smells like weed but he figures this is a special occasion, entertaining royalty and all. 

They smoke in silence for a while, passing the joint back and forth, and Eddie settles in, mind quieting and body relaxing. It’s almost enough to make him forget his quest for answers, his need to fill in the large chunks of the story that he’s been left out of. It feels like he’s coming into a campaign halfway through, his character introduced in the third act with no guide or backstory, and it drives him nuts. 

“You know I’m gonna ask again, right?” Eddie says lazily, eyes half closed as he looks over at Steve. 

“C’mon Eddie, I was just halfway through forgetting everything that’s happened this past week.”

Eddie feels a stupid little thrill at hearing Steve call him by his first name. It’s idiotic, moronic, absolutely unfathomable. Completely stupid. He shouldn’t even allow himself to consider the possibility of even being friendly with Steve Harrington, let alone friends, let alone anything else so he tamps down that rush of feeling. This is just a fever dream, and when he wakes up in the morning this soft camaraderie in the dead of night won’t have made a difference at all. He and Harrington will go back to being strangers, and that will be that. 

“You’re really not going to tell me anything? You’re the one that dragged me along, saying that it ‘wasn’t safe’ and now you’re sitting there like it’s no big deal meanwhile the cogs in my brain keep whirling. If you don’t say anything I’m just going to draw my own conclusions, Steve.”

Steve lets out a wry chuckle, “I seriously doubt that you’ll get anywhere close to the truth. You don’t scare me, Eddie.”

“You’re seriously underestimating the webs that my twisted mind can weave. Dungeon Master, remember?”

A nudge from Steve's knee against his leg. “Maybe one day, okay? Just not tonight.”

Eddie wants to argue, wants to point out that it’s an empty promise, since Steve will probably leave and act like this whole thing never happened. Treat it like a distant memory. Eddie doesn’t have a lot of faith in people sticking around at the best of times. But he’s tired, not up for an argument, doesn’t want to ruin the tentative comfort that he and Steve have settled into. So he drops it. He’ll blame it on the weed for making him so damn pliant. 

They sit together long after the joint is done. Not really talking, just—well, he doesn’t want to think that they’re enjoying each other’s company, but they’re certainly accepting it. Steve doesn’t seem eager to leave, and Eddie doesn’t feel the need to say anything that might make him think it’s time to go.

***

Eddie blinks awake, tongue feeling disgustingly dry, drool on his chin, he wipes at it with the back of his hand, and notices the weight on his shoulder. Steve. His head is resting on Eddie, and he’s sound asleep, they both must have dozed off at some point. 

As much as he’d love to continue the luxury of being Steve’s pillow, his bladder aches in protest. Eddie manages to extract himself, smiling fondly when Steve snuffles in his sleep and snuggles further into the couch. Eddie throws an old afghan over him, one that his grandma crocheted years ago. 

Eddie goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, takes one last glance at the insane sight of Steve Harrington sleeping on his couch, and gets into his own bed. He figures Steve will probably wake up at some point and leave, never to be heard from again. Eddie falls asleep with those disappointing assumptions in his mind. He’d rather be realistic, prepare himself ahead of time than to be let down by yet another person in this world. 

That’s why it’s such a shock to his system when he pads out of his bedroom the following morning, having overslept with little concern for making it to school on time, astonished to find Steve Harrington sitting across their tiny kitchen table from Wayne, sipping coffee with a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. 

“Mornin’ Ed,” Wayne says gruffly. “Steve here said you had a late night, so you’ve got him to thank for gettin’ your beauty sleep.”

Steve turns in his seat, small smile on his lips as he takes in Eddie's rumpled appearance—he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the fact that he’s only wearing a t-shirt and boxers. 

“Figured it was the least I could do.”