Britannia, NY

Around ten o'clock, Gary emerges from the studio and goes into the living room, shedding his clothing, paint streaked into his hair, up his forearms, and a smear of green on his cheek. He's a little bit hoping that Mike won't talk to him, or that Mike will, or something, he doesn't know what but he's not feeling bad, just a little shaky and uncertain in his stomach.

"Hey," he says, quietly. "You want a beer?"