it was how a shocking number of dean’s nights went these days. spend a few hours at the bar, trying to pick up a girl. not have any success, go scrolling back through old hookups (female hookups, thank you) to see if anyone was interested. and then, around the fifth beer, broaden his search. open an app or go back to the old well. it was how he’d found himself waking up at scott’s house about a half an hour ago. and, well, he’d been craving pancakes, so he found himself at the stove, just starting to flip the first few with a practiced flick of the wrist. no one ever said no to breakfast. he turned around when he heard the pad of footsteps in the kitchen. “tan, gold, or brown?” @recklessabandons