As Jack's voice cut them off, calling everything to a halt, Ariel bent to pick up the water bottle from the oil-stained floor of the Patel's garage. For November - in an uninsulated room, it was surprisingly warm. The boy hooked his fingers behind his yellow-and-blue bowtie and tried to let a little air in underneath his Oxford shirt and accompanying red sweater. And though he was turning to say something to Eden with a sassy sort of smile on his lips, the sound of Jack's voice stopped him a second time.
A kid, not much shorter than him, with rings looped through basically every facial feature and a bright mohawk-thing, had come ambling up the driveway. Ariel gave him a quick once over, taking note of the ripped, graffited clothing. The boy found the sassy smile was still useable. He shot it Eden's way because, boy, weren't they a match made in heaven?
Ariel waved after the band was introduced, the water in his bottle sloshing noisily.
"We had names once too, but now we are just Corporate Lobotomy," he piped from behind the other boy. He had almost said it in a robot voice, but something told him he should tone it back just a smidge.