"N-n-n-nothing. I just... I just came up stairs because the music was bothering me and I need to concentrait and there was an explosion and I was wondering if you could just turn it down... just a little."
Rick couldn't explain why it was suddenly so hard for him to ask his stepson to do something. But somehow Brandon, the same useless bratty apathetic kid who always needed to be told what to do, seemed to radiate somekind of masculine authority. It especially felt difficult to do so infront of Brandon's friends, two want-to-be thugs, Chris and Tobby.
"Ya Right Pops, We're just chillin'."
"Please... just a little."
"Okay. Are You alright?"
"Yes, fine sir... son."
Chris, realizing that Brandon must be embarrased by his stepfather decided it was time to go, "Maybe we should leave?"
"Ya," Brandon said, "It's getting late anyways"
Rick, still standing by the door to the basement, watches as his stepson's friends get up from the kitchen table. There is something more masculine about them. They look more solid. And as they walk across the house to the front door there steps cause the house to shake slightly... but Rick feels less nervous as the boyz get further away.
Still standing at the door to the basement, Rick hears Tobby's good-bye to Brandon, "I'm sorry that you're old man's such a wuss."
The music is still blairing in the kitchen.