Momentarily losing the younger man's attention bothered Carter more than his sharp barbs had. Why was Chuck looking at whoever the random that Nate was talking to? The dark-haired boy looked vaguely familiar to Carter-- he was possibly even the student who had come in raving about zombies--but he was definitely not Gossip Girl material. You could tell that much just by looking at him.
It was vaguely satisfying when Chuck's attention swung back to him again, and Carter almost welcomed his snide question about his parents. He had been cut off from both of them, it was true. His mother still slipped him cash when his father wasn't looking, but his trust fund was thoroughly dismantled, his credit cards blocked. It had been the price of freedom two years ago, but Carter still mourned their loss. Freedom was fantastic, but so were luxury hotel rooms, flashy watches, and limitless tabs at trendy clubs.
"You know parents, always wanting to boss you around," Carter said cheerfully, tossing off the words as if they were meaningless. "Our plans for what my future should look don't exactly mesh. I'm sure you can sympathize, Chuck. I don't remember Bart being thrilled with having a degenerate son. You're like me, booze and easy women instead of blue chips and wannabe Stepford wives."
He sounded almost fond at that, smiling at Chuck with his mouth if not his eyes. "Lucky for me, my parents have given up on trying to convert me to their line of thinking."