Believe me, once you see it you're going to have a hard time calling it anything else. Wrench smirks, imagining the young man before him dressed in something that might be more suitable for a packed warehouse with music blaring and laser lights flashing in a hundred directions. His concept of clubbing might need some work.

People are fine. I just don't like owing anyone for anything.

To the last statement, he shrugs his shoulders. How long has it been, Wrench wonders, since he made out with someone? Can he even remember back far enough to recall how it went? He stuffs down the urge to ask Iggy why he'd want that. Can't exactly pretend to watch something on TV, I guess.