“A game.” Laurels voice was flat with scepticism and she hadn’t left her room yet. Eddie reclaimed his (her) seat and held his hands out expansively.

“Yes, a game.”

Christian was watching Laurel, who still looked stormy. But her curiosity won out and eventually she walked over to join them, and Eddie graciously moved over so that she could sit.

“We really need to get more chairs.” He told her.

“You don’t live here.” Laurel told him curtly. “What game?”

Eddie shook out his arms like a magician about to do a trick and had a sly look on his features. “Alright, the game is called “Perspective.””

Even Brendan put down what he was doing to listen, curious. Christian was aware that somehow, through Eddie’s mysterious charisma, he had gotten all of them dancing to his tune again, even laurel. It was impressive.

Laurel had asked him that first night if he found Eddie attractive, and though it had been an obvious ‘no’ then, he had had time to think on it since. Eddie was good to look at. He was well-muscled, but not overly so, tall, with had naturally tanned skin, making Christian assume he was perhaps Hispanic, or Greek? But his smile was ready and engaging, and his humour and easy temperament contagious. And he clearly found Christian interesting.

But he just wasn’t interested back. Eddie was wonderful, but he was the kind of one-man show that Christian was content to watch, but being a part of it would be exhausting.

It was easy to like Eddie, but that’s where it ended. Eddie seemed to sense it too, without needing to verbalize it, and took it in his stride, for which Christian was grateful. He had so little experience with romantic endeavors in his life, even less with rejection.

They were all staring, waiting for him to carry on, a moment which Eddie took much joy in creating.

“’Perspective’ is a guessing game about people. Very easy to play, you don’t even need a board. Great to play when you’re drunk-“

“Get on with it.” Laurel cut in.

“Alright, bossy pants. So one person is the First Person. “He touched his chest indicating himself. “And the rest of the players are the Subjects.” He swept a gesture over them. “One of the subjects gets to ask a question about the First person, like;” and here he held a hand out to Laurel expectantly.

Laurel didn’t even hesitate. “What is ‘Eddie’ short for?”

Eddie nodded. “And all the Subjects have to guess an answer. If one of them is right, that Subject gets a drink and the First person gets a drink. If everyone is wrong, everyone has to drink, except the First Person.”

“But don’t you have to say what the real answer is?” Laurel demanded. And Eddie shook his finger at her admonishingly.

“That’s not how it works I’m afraid. The point is to guess, and keep guessing until you know enough about the person to not get questions wrong anymore. That’s why it’s called ‘Perspective’. You learn all kinds of thing about people. Of course, the more drinks that are had, the more fun it gets…”

“So how does this help me?”

Eddie looked at her aghast. “Madam, this is your chance to ask me questions that I can’t ignore.”

“But there is no guarantee I’ll get the answer I want.” Laurel shot back, still mulish.

“Yes yes, I’m afraid that is a hazard of the game but you can use it to your advantage. Tick off what doesn’t fit. Like Cluedo.” His hands moved as he spoke, punctuating every word.

They were all looking at Laurel now, who looked like she was chewing over the pros and cons of this idea. Christian wouldn’t admit to it, but he was holding his breath, hoping she would go for it. It would make things just a little easier for him, not having his best friend ticked-off every time Eddie showed up.

At length, Laurel said “Does it have to be a drinking game?”

Christian let out his hidden breath, and he saw Brendan shake a silent triumphant fist at the sky from behind Laurel’s back. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Only if you want me to play.”

“Fine, fine.” Laurel said waving her hand in irritation. “But we don’t have anything.”

Eddie perked right up. “It just so happens…” he said, leaning in the direction of his messenger bag, which was as must a part of Eddie as anything could be. And if anyone wasn’t sure it was his, the name EDDIE bedazzled onto the closing flap would tell them.

“Of course.” Laurel said wryly, as Eddie pulled out two bottles of red wine.

The evening evolved into a pleasant, tipsy one, filled with food, questions and various levels of drunkenness. Christian helped Brendan make pasta, because he felt guilty. Eddie and Laurel started the game, which was easy enough since Christian and Brendan could call out their answers. Since no one had guessed correctly about Eddie’s real name, Laurel still didn’t know and had to drink a sip of wine for her effort.

Laurel and Brendan took up the couch, while Christian perched on the window sill, and Eddie was nestled in the bean bag chair, looking ridiculous with his long limbs stretching out over the carpet like a flamingo. Christian was in a warm, fuzzy state of contentment, finding that even though his work lay unfinished, he had never enjoyed himself so much in his life.

“It’s not your turn.” Eddie was saying to Laurel, leaning back in the bean bag so that his butt scooted on the carpet, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“But you didn’t answer.” She said back, her voice still stern but far mellower than when they had started.

“I’m not supposed to answer. You’re supposed to answer and I’m supposed to tell you if you’re right or not. Stop trying to catch me out, I’ve been at this longer than you.” he told her. He looked at Christian. “My turn, and I want to select Chrissy.”

Christian leaned his head on the window frame looked expectantly at Eddie.

“What does Christian think his nick-name is?” Eddie said.

Laurel giggled. “Waste of a question. Chris. That’s what I call him.”

Eddie said. “Snow-child.”

They looked at Brendan, who shrugged and said. “Does he even have one?”

So they all looked at Christian, who looked back benignly. “I don’t have one.”

“None?” Eddie asked. Christian shook his head. “Huh. That is either really profound or really mundane. All of us have to drink.” So they did, except Christian.

It was Brendan next, and he asked Eddie. “What’s your favourite movie?”

Laurel groaned, since as far as she was concerned that wasn’t the kind of information she wanted but they ignored her.

“To Wong Foo” Said Christian.

“10 things I hate about you.” said Laurel.

“Terminator.” Said Brendan, who wasn’t very good at the game.

Eddie looked pleased with himself. “Firstly, Laurel, ouch. And secondly, well-done Christian. Although, really, it should have been obvious. Drink up!”

And so it went. Laurel kept trying to ask probing questions that would reveal more about Eddie, but they were all too new at the game and all that she really learned was that Eddie did in fact attend college with them. Since they weren’t allowed to ask yes or no questions, it made finding information tricky. But when it wasn’t Laurel’s turn, the questions became fun and interesting, and Christian found that the game was aptly named. The point was to learn more about people, and sometimes the answers they gave revealed more about what they thought than the person they were talking about.

However, they were one and half bottles down and since neither Laurel nor Christian could hold their drink, and Laurel had drunk twice as much as anyone except Eddie, she was almost falling asleep on the couch by midnight. Eventually she threw in the towel and staggered her way back to her room. Christian took her spot on the couch and curled himself into it, still warm from her body, resting the muscles that were stiff from sitting on the sill.

“We need more furniture in this place.” Brendan muttered.

“That’s what I keep saying.” Eddie agreed.

Christian grinned wide at their repeated complaint, but didn’t add anything. He felt warm and soft all over.

Eddie lolled his head towards Christian. “You ok, sugar plum?”

Christian nodded. “I just feel happy that’s all.”

“Oh my Lord, you are the cutest. How I didn’t kiss you that first day, I’ll never know. Now I never will. Life is a tragedy.”

Eddie had promised never to kiss Christian, and Christian had never said so, but it was a relief.

“Is that your type? Cute?” Brendan directed lazily at Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. “No, not your turn.”

So Christian looked at Eddie. “What’s your type? I say cute.”

“I say short.” Brendan said. But Eddie shook his head. “Nope. Drink up.” He said, and hauled himself to his feet. “And I’ll give you to this one for free, since Madam’s snoring away and you are both going to have such a headache tomorrow, you will likely curse my name.” he touched his chest with both hands. “I don’t have a type. I like them all. Long, short, black, white, cute, rugged, hairy, smooth. All of it. I love it. Although I still firmly bat for the boy’s team.”

Christian wasn’t surprised by this answer. It made sense. Eddie loved the world.

Eddie went on, nostalgic now. “I recall once I tumbled with a particularly ruggedly handsome fellow. Looked a bit like Brad Pitt. Lord, he was lovely. I think his name was Hercules.”

Both Brendan and Christian chuckled at that, because that was very unlikely.

“A long lost love?” Brendan teased at the reminiscent look on Eddie face, making him snap back to the present.

“What? No, not at all. He’s probably married and running around after little rug rats by now. Not my sort of love.”

Brendan’s couldn’t hide his astonished reaction. “He was straight?”

“Well, no, obviously not. But he wasn’t homosexual either.” He gave Brendan withering look before going on. “We’re all just somewhere on the Kinsey scale, sweetheart.”

“What’s the Kinsey scale?” Brendan asked.

Eddie gave a long suffering sigh as he bent down to pick up his bedazzled bag. “Glory be, why do I debase myself with ignoramuses like you? The Kinsey scale is a very basic way of measuring where you fit in terms of hetero versus homo.” he pulled his coat on and held his hands out at a distance, fingers straight, like he was measuring a fish. “Imagine a line. At one side you have hetero, at the other you have homo. And then there is everything in the middle. It’s not actually that basic. In fact it’s far more complicated, but I don’t have time to tell you now since I need to walk home before I get any drunker.”

As he spoke he was walking around the couch to the door, still holding his glass and bag, and finished off by saying “Toodles.” before shutting it behind him. Eddie always left that way; abruptly. They couldn’t even ask if he was alright to walk alone.

“I think he hates goodbyes.” Christian said quietly, but couldn’t find the wherewithal to worry about it. Eddie was always fine. And he was warm and comfortable and for the moment, worry free. Alcohol was definitely a good thing. A lovely, happy thing. He poked Brendan with his foot.

“Pass the wine, Bear.” He said to Brendan with a teasing smile and heavy eyes. Brendan did as he was bid, and poured the last of the wine into both their glasses. It wasn’t much, but it would extend the evening a little, and that was all Christian wanted.

“So what’s your type then?” Brendan asked.

“Hmm?” Christian answered, mind drifting a little.

“What’s your type? Do you have a type?”

Christian stared at Brendan for a little, still conjuring up an answer in his head. “Um, yeah, no, I don’t know.”

Brendan sniggered. “That was crystal clear.”

Christian shrugged. “I just like guys. I haven’t had a chance to figure out what I like and don’t like really.” He thought some more. “Hang on, wait. I used to check out Steven Warring in school.”

Brendan’s eyebrows went up. “He played basketball, right?”

“Yeah.” Christian recalled, taking another sip of the wine. “Athletes. I like athletes. And Aron Gray.”

“Aron Gray?”

“Homecoming king. I think he was my first real crush, when I really knew I was gay.”

Brendan was looking at him with his head leaning on one hand, and it squished his face a bit, making his one eye crinkle. “I didn’t know that.”

Christian stared at the red wine in the bottom of his glass. “No one knows that.”

He poked Brendan with his foot again, but didn’t pull it back this time, feeling too lazy and too relaxed to care. “So what’s your type?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, like, what do straight guys say; boobs, butt, or legs?”

Brendan rubbed his face then, not quite hiding a grin. “Christian that is the weirdest thing to hear coming from your mouth. You’re drunk.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. So?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I answered you, it’s your turn.” Christian said with his eyes closed.

Brendan paused before answering. “I like blondes.”

“That is not very informative.”

“And I think you’re a bit wasted.”

“I’m just happy. And tired.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s good to have a family.”

This time it was quiet long enough for Christian to really begin drifting to sleep. But Brendan bumped Christian’s leg to wake him.

“Come on, Christian. I’ll help you to bed.”

“Oh if you insist.” Christian said, trying to imitate Eddie’s imperious tone but failing because he was mumbling. He felt Brendan take the glass from his hand, and pull him up, letting his arm rest over his shoulders so he could guide him more easily.

“I didn’t mean to get drunk.” Christian told him as they walked the short way to his room.

“People usually don’t.”

“I’m quite chatty.”

“So you are.”

“At least around you. I always talk more around you.”

Brendan didn’t respond to this, and Christian wanted to say something but the thought dissipated before he could grasp it. He really was extremely tired. He felt himself lean into the glorious comfort of his horizontal bed, and fell asleep in seconds.