Though Brendon had known Ryan for about ten minutes, he could tell that there was probably more to this guy than being a socially inept asshole- he was an assertive socially inept asshole, clearly used to taking care of himself, doing everything independently, and holding some kind of not-official but definitely-there authority over everyone he worked with. That distinctive energy- that Ryan was unassuming, but did command some obedience even if he didn’t explicitly ask for it- was interesting, and since Brendon was often intentionally disobedient, stepped out of line, caused trouble (read: all of his short jobs in the last three years, save the last one- that was just unfortunate timing and bad luck), he hoped that Ryan would keep him under check more than others had. It was strange to think about it like that- he knew he should be responsible for his own behaviour and actions, but when somebody was as impulsive as he was, he needed some kind of failsafe to stop him doing dumb shit and fucking everything up again. Ryan was also relatively irresponsible to Brendon’s constant jokes and sarcasm, so great. That meant he’d probably think Brendon was being serious. Things weren’t looking great.

He wondered what kind of qualities the ideal ‘source’ should have- the only requirements Jon had mentioned were ‘born in NYC, over eighteen at least’. At 23, maybe he was on the young side, but Ryan looked about the same age as him, even if he was annoyingly over two inches taller. But Brendon was used to being shorter than everyone else, so it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. So, Brendon was born there, to the south in Brooklyn, had lived there his whole life. In fact, this was probably the furthest and longest he’d ever been away from the city, and the city kid was feeling completely out of his element in a country house overtaken by nature. It was refreshing, but alienating. NYC might be chaotic and merciless and unforgiving for the most part, but it felt like Home, like somewhere he belonged. So stepping in through the door of Ryan’s pristine wooden mansion made him feel like a fish that had flung himself out of the water onto the land, that he could enjoy the heat and the view for a while, but eventually he’d suffocate because he didn’t belong. Or maybe he was being fake deep. It happened a lot.

He didn’t know why he was revealing that he was fired literally yesterday to somebody who hadn’t even hired him yet- it probably wouldn’t sound very impressive, would raise some questions, usually- but Ryan didn’t say much the entire time he was explaining he’d been fired- just a neutral, kind of vague [i]I see- [/i]in fact he turned away, started rooting through the drawers and the sofa with no explanation, leaving Brendon standing there awkwardly, taking the chance he was given to gawk around the room. When he turned back around, and Ryan handed him the money, he immediately wondered whether this was Ryan telling him to get a cab all the way back home, and looked dejected, trying not to panic. But no dismissal came, and instead Ryan gave him a funny look when he thanked him for giving him five hundred dollars. So this money really was nothing to Ryan- he wished he could give money away that easily. If Brendon could, he’d tip every street musician he passed by, supporting their dream, the one he’d never even had the chance to try and follow. But he couldn’t. Ryan could- but apparently he chose to not even help his friends. Spencer.

Since Ryan hadn’t kicked him out yet, Brendon was beginning to trust that maybe he got the job, and Ryan was just unintentionally- or intentionally, it didn’t matter- vague. As long as he got to stay here, and earn what he hoped would be a generous amount for his troubles, it didn’t matter. Deciding to test the water, he carefully placed his bag down like the sofa was fragile and would break with ease- he really had no idea how to behave around such extravagance and wealth, and this particular sofa was probably worth more than his entire apartment. He sensed Ryan’s eyes on him and felt uncomfortable, scrutinised- so he turned around, looked at him questioningly, almost pleadingly, asking him how the hell he was supposed to behave at a place like this. Ryan didn’t seem to respond to his silent calls for help, and just carefully took his jacket away, hanging it on a hook nearby. Brendon dropped his arms down by his sides, freed of his load, and then loosely crossed them over his chest, because he had no idea what to do with them. He then launched into a brief description of himself, all the while wondering why Jon didn’t take the initiative and help him out by actually telling Ryan who he was and that he was coming. It was sort of frustrating how Ryan asked all this questions but never reacted to his answers- he only said one thing about his entire brief self-description. Kinda [i]pretty?[/i] Brendon blinked, meeting Ryan’s eyes when he looked over his shoulder, was thrown for a loop. He’d mentioned the ‘pretty’ thing as a joke, but Ryan seemed to more than agree- and Brendon was stumped by this guy. One moment he was a distant, pretentious asshole, and suddenly he seemed to be hitting on him. Was he hitting on him? Brendon wasn’t even sure if he was gay. He just stared back, and shrugged a shoulder, simply offering a nervous half-smile.

[i]Yeah, man, I've got WiFi.[/i] It didn’t sound right, Ryan saying [i]man.[/i] Maybe he was trying to pick up on Brendon’s dialect, or whatever. Who knew. This guy was full of surprises. Still, whatever, he was just glad this guy wasn’t a technology-free advocate or anything. That would be hell on Earth, even in a place as nice as this. He was taken by surprise again when Ryan leaned over, way too close for comfort, and though Brendon was a physical person with his friends, he realised he’d have to teach Ryan that New Yorkers, though packed together most of the time, strongly appreciated and advocated for their own personal space. He was uncomfortable, unused to a stranger being this overbearing, but he knew Ryan had no idea, so he just let him do his thing. [i]That one. The password's just, uh, 'password.' To be honest, I'm not sure how I survive, 'cause technology is beyond me.[/i] Brendon nodded, but raised an eyebrow, typing in the very inventive password. [b]”Interesting choice of password for a literary [i]genius[/i],”[/b] He mused, smiling, and then nodded when Ryan admitted he was inept with technology. [b]”I’m not surprised. No offence.”[/b]

Once he had successfully connected to the surprisingly fast WiFi, Brendon had to hurry to catch up to Ryan, because he’d already started walking and his legs were a lot longer than Brendon’s. They stopped outside a room and Brendon almost ran into him, but successfully steadied himself. He waited for Ryan to open the door and then followed him in. He tried not to let his jaw hang open when he saw the room he’d presumably be staying in- it was beautiful, pristine, and he already mentally confirmed it was bigger than his whole apartment back home. Brendon wondered if you could fall in love with a house, a room, because if you could, Brendon was having a full love affair with the decor of this guest room- guest room! What did [i]Ryan’s[/i] bedroom look like? He’d ask, but it might sound unintentionally suggestive, so he stayed quiet, just moving to the centre of the room and moving in a slow circle to look around. [b]”Wow,”[/b] He said out loud, running a hand through his hair when he looked at the bed because it looked incredibly comfortable and he kind of wanted to just nap right now. Turns out four hours of sitting in a cab really took it out of him. 

[i]Also, I think the Internet made people read a lot more, actually.[/i] What? Brendon glanced over, wondering what the hell he was talk about and also wondering when Ryan thought he actually cared. [i]Writing is more readily available, most everything is public domain... it's kind of incredible.[/i] Wow, okay, nerd. Brendon raised an eyebrow as he looked away, back at the bed and then to the lavender of the walls. [i]I hope this is okay. The guest rooms all sort of look the same, so... if you need anything, just say so, no problem.[/i] Brendon nodded enthusiastically. [b]”This is tight as fuck,”[/b] He commented, grinning in the genuine way that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners, finally looking back over at Ryan. [i]What's your place like back in the city? I could try to get the same stuff here.[/i] He almost laughed, and just shook his head dismissively. There was nothing at his own place that could improve this. Brendon was a fan of new starts, and this clean, luxurious room was a good place to begin. [b]”I mean, this one room is bigger than my apartment,”[/b] He commented absently, then finally tore his eyes away and looked back at Ryan expectantly.