“So you do actually live in a mausoleum?” Wesley gave him a soft poke in the side. “I thought that would totally be one of the things the media had made up.” “It is, mostly. I’m special.” Special in his tone sounded like a curse, bitter and twisted. “And I’m kind of angry at you for having so much more than me. As though part of me blames you, like somehow you’re the reason I’m living this way just because you happen to have a little old house and a fifteen-year-old minivan, when you aren’t actually the problem at all. You deserve to have that kind of stability just as much as anyone, just
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