Lance finally got to eat his meat. Joyous red meat that he could finally eat. Oh, how Lance had missed his meat. But not just any meat; steak. Pietro wouldn't eat it, Todd wouldn't eat it, but he still had Freddy. He wanted a red, raw steak. He wanted it to bleed as soon as he sliced it open, staining the inevitable side of mashed potatoes pink in the process. Hell, Lance wanted it to still be mooing on the way down.
Excitedly, Lance rubbed his hands together as he stepped out of the jeep and walked up the sidewalk to Freddy and Jeera's small apartment. It was on the first floor, which Lance counted as lucky for the landlords. Those stairs looked like farily cheaply put together black iron and cement - Freddy'd crush 'em with one foot.
Freddy had told him to go ahead and meet at their apartment - something about working late, chores, whatever. Lance had never been big on a chore schedule; he'd more or less taken care of himself, picked up after himself, things of that nature. He still wasn't entirely sure which car they were taking, though he assumed it was going to be his. After all, the truck did belong to Jeera and it wasn't like Lance hadn't driven Freddy around before.
Smiling cheerfully, Lance stopped at the number Freddy had given him, raising a fist to knock rapidly on the door. The corners of his lips quirked slightly, and he decided to have a bit of fun with the older boy. He lifted one finger and placed it over the eyehole of the door, preventing one from looking out and seeing who it was at the door. Not that Freddy really needed to worry about intruders or anything, but still.