For similar reasons, Mac didn't have the normal college experience, or any college experience. Maybe if he'd been an incredibly attentive, intelligent and hardworking student, instead of the dim slacking son of a meth dealer, some thoughtful teacher would have set him on a path to getting scholarships or at least going to trade school - but that's neither the kid Mac was nor the setting he grew up in, and as such the instant he got out of high school he started scrounging for the most efficient way to never learn anything again.

"Oh shit, really?" Mac says that as if the concept of the person he's talking to being the person who was supposed to show up is some kind of intense foreign idea he couldn't have possibly been expected to conceive or prepare for by not, you know, talking shit about that person. "Well, in that case, you're on the hook for pizza."

He gestures at the scattered pieces of bunk bed, chair, desk and what appears to maybe have approximating a dresser at one point but now is likely to never reach a greater contribution to this world than firewood. "Feng shui, that's what I was going for. You know, I'm really into that minimalism vibe, which is where Catholicism and Buddhism really overlap. You get your piety and you get your sweet roundhouse kicks, and the house to match it."

He gets that Ben was kind of putting him down, but fuck it, may as well be friendly with your future roommate.