It was almost ten when I concluded that I’d finally had all of the Criminal Justice and Terrorism information I could take for the night, and I slammed my book shut with a groan, leaning back in my chair to stretch the kinks and soreness out of my back. Downstairs, the front door opened. It must have been Matt. I closed my laptop and headed downstairs to greet him, ready for a few beers. Aaron was still sitting on the couch with a sketch pad in his lap and the TV going in the background when I got downstairs. I went to the kitchen for three beers and brought them back to my friends, taking a seat in one of the empty recliners. Matt kicked off his work boots and joined us.
“You look weird,” Aaron said to Matt, temporarily abandoning his sketch to look our friend up and down. “You look… hap
