After collecting his copy of the recording and bidding the rest of the band goodnight, Rory still got home in plenty of time for a shower. With what he had planned for the evening-- not to mention the night --greeting Peter with hours-old performance sweat on his body just was not acceptable. He dried off, pulled on faded jeans and a dark green henley and ran a brush through his hair.

Fortunately he only had about ten minutes of fidget time before his young friend buzzed his intercom. "Come on up, Peter." Pressing the button to let the other man in, Rory felt a buzz of a very different kind percolating through his body.

By the time Peter made it up to the seventh floor, Rory's restlessness had pushed him out into the hall to lean by his open door. Eager? Maybe just a little.