Danny lay curled on the sofa. He had yet to turn the television on, instead just listening to the popcorn as it popped and wondering why Luke insisted on cooking it on the stovetop rather than the microwave. Then again, Luke actually knew how to cook properly. He’d have to ask for lessons. Luke probably was a decent teacher. He pondered idly, the conversation they’d had turning over in his mind. He grumbled, and reached up to loosen his tie. His suit was a mess, rumpled an wrinkled. He didn’t much care.
“It is weird though, right?” He asked as he pushed himself up to make room on the sofa for Luke. “Some of those artifacts and everything. They might have a bit of a point, though I think Graham Hancock is more to the point. And Micheal Pollan. It’s more the shamanic experience and possible global civilizations than aliens, right?”
He looked to Luke for approval, gaze earnest and somewhat ridiculous given the suit he was wearing, the fact the first thing he’ done upon entering Luke’s home was remove his shoes and socks. He shifted, legs still curled on the cushions.
“Can I spend the night if it gets too late?” He asked. Lonely. Danny had a tendency to get far too lonely too easily.