“At least go there with me so I have some company!"

Joshua felt so cold he gathered his coat about him more tightly.

"You wish!" he snapped.

“Cut the crap, dude. Just get me out of here," Gifford smiled.

Grudgingly, Joshua hailed a taxi and took Gifford back home.

He had to psych himself up for it, because his parents were home. He really didn't feel like dealing with them.

His parents actually liked Gifford, so there was no problem there. But they insisted on comparing them. There really was no way he could match up to his friends, so all it did was cause problems. The more Joshua thought about it, the more he felt his head ache.

And he was right.

As soon as he got home and went upstairs, he ran into his father,

Darius, who had just emerged from his study. Gifford respectfully greeted him, “Hello, Uncle Darius!"

Darius nodded to Gifford kindly.

"Hi Gifford. You're in Alorith? When did you get in? And why are you in pajamas?" Darius wrinkled his nose as he looked at Gifford.

“You're drunk, huh?"

“We knocked back a few at Sheffield's," Gifford answered respectfully.

“So Let me guess-you need a place to crash," Darius said.

“Yeah, I think so. Sorry to bother you, Uncle Darius."

Joshua cast a stern glance at Gifford, who was acting like a well-behaved child. Sheffield was the same. The two cunning guys knew exactly what to say to make his dad happy. It was an act, of course, but Darius didn't know that.

"Naw. My house is yours. Joshua, make yourself useful and get some blankets and pillows."

“Okay, Dad."

It was then that Darius finally turned his eyes to his son, with a burning gaze.

“Why can't you be more like him? He's already a colonel.

He's as amazing as his dad. You...you're just a playboy. Can't you make your old man proud for once?"

“Sheffield's worse than I am. That guy goes out all night, and can't be serious for longer than 5 seconds. Why do you always bag on me?" Joshua retorted, unconvinced.

Gifford was not an outsider in Darius' eyes, so he didn't mind lecturing his son rudely in his presence.

“At least, your friend is a doctor, developing a high profile drug. He's set to make millions. He has every reason to be proud of himself. What about you? You're content to be a Low-Level procurator. Can't you work harder? Maybe you'd make something of yourself."