Riley's final outburst took Ryan by surprise to say the least. "Well some of us live in the real world," was all he threw back, moving out of the kitchen and back toward his room, his books, his silence.
"You know," he stopped, turned, "Play by yourself for all I care. I have real work to do." He headed into his bedroom and shut the door, refraining from slamming it, and sat down at his desk - his chair an old piano bench - and grabbed the first book on the pile.