Rory bowed his head to cover his smile. Eisen was right, of course - pressuring him to audition for the play really had been a good idea. To be totally honest, Rory had wanted to audition all along, it was just that, as always, his own self-consciousness had gotten in his way. The "blackmail" scheme had been brilliant, though - it gave Rory a chance to audition yet pretend that he was doing it for some reason other than actually wanting to. And now that he'd gotten in, he could freely at admit to how much fun he was having. Sometimes, Rory thought, Eisen knew him better than he knew himself. And for Rory, that was saying something. "Yeah, yeah. You were right about the play. Stop rubbing it in, wouldja?"
Rory didn't mention it, but he was glad that Eisen hadn't rushed to his rescue. Pain and fatigue were just a part of Rory's every day life, and he always preferred it when the few people perceptive enough to realize when those levels were worst had the courtesy not to ask him about it. Rory was, in general, pretty good about telling the people close to him when he was having physical trouble with something, so in return he liked to keep his problems private. What did it matter if he was having a bad day? It wasn't like there was anything anyone could do about it, and all complaining would do would generate pity, which Rory hated. Better to just stay quiet and talk about something else.
"That is true," Rory agreed. "But what was I going to do? Run away?" He shook his head. "Not today, my friend. In these kinds of situations I've found that it's best to just give into the terrorists' demands." He looked over at his friend, eyebrows raised. "So the question remains, Mr. Terrorist. What are your demands?</i>"