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He hadn't thought much of Dave's brother when he'd first met him. He seemed nice enough. He was certainly skinny enough. He had a 6'2, slender frame complete with long limbs, and a mop of carrot-orange hair on top of his head. It was funny haircut actually. His bangs veiled his hazel eyes, and from what Hart could tell, he liked it that way. He was obviously a shy boy; constantly hiding behind his orange locks and headphones. Damn, he loved his music. From what Hart could see, his headphones were part of his body; he'd never seen him without them. Hart and Casey rarely exchanged words. When they did, it was usually a casual, "hey" or a "sorry" when they got in each other's way.

Yeah, he liked to keep to himself. He confined himself to his bedroom where he liked to read and paint his fingernails black. It was hard to file him really; geek or punk? Hart couldn't decide. He didn't know Casey well enough. He was the household mystery. He never joined Dave and him when they played video games, or helped them create a catastrophe in the kitchen. He was always upstairs with that door shut, occasionally leaving to eat or piss. Hart couldn't help but wonder about the guy; constantly locked up in his own little world. In fact, the wonder eventually developed into worry. It became such a prevalent thought that one day, Hart asked Dave about his introverted brother.

They were eating at the kitchen table; avidly cramming their mouths full of potatoes chips. "Hey," Hart asked with his mouth still very full, "Why, doesn't Casey ever do anything with us? He's always up in that ...

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