Drained

You and me...

...always forever.

Thomas.

Thomas!

Thomas!

Thomas!

Fuck!

- Thomas! - What?!

Thomas!

What, Mum?

-What are you up to? -What?

Working, why?

John's coming.

Who is John?

Pest control.

Are you wearing makeup?

I just need you to take him to the basement.

Well, I can't.

I'm busy, okay?

Would you just get down here?

I need a piss first.

Hurry up.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I prefer to leave it in.

Tom, would you take John to the basement?

And then please clean that room, yeah?

That's why we got mice.

I can't, Mum.

I'm going out.

Going where?

You never go out.

Yes, I do.

Would you just take him to the basement first, yeah?

Just you and your mum living here then, eh?

Yep.

No dad?

No.

Vermin.

You give them warmth, food.

They never leave.

Yeah, it's just gonna take long because I was somewhere to be.

Didn't your mum tell you you had to clean your room?

Yeah.

I can do what I like, thanks.

I'm a fully grown man.

That you are.

That you are.

Yo.

Yo.

What you sayin'?

Yeah, yo man, no I can't.

See?

I can't hear you, but what you up to?

Working, lad.

Why what you sayin'? You coming down?

Yeah.

Yeah man, no, no, I thought I'd come down

and say hi.

It's been a-- it's been a while.

Yo, you actually came, my G.

I had to get up the house.

Mate, I've not seen you in months.

Mum's doing my fucking head in.

What?

Mum.

I think she's dating.

You need to get laid, bro.

Thank you.

It's getting a bit pathetic.

Hey, Tommo.

You good, my brah?

Going for a smoke.

I think you're beautiful.

What?

Come, dance with me.

What's your name?

Rhea.

What's yours?

Thomas.

I can feel your heart.

What the fuck.

Using the toilet.

Hello, mate.

Sorry to bother you while you almost got your hands full.

Anyway...

I just wanted to say that

um, what I'm trying to say is,

I'm not just here for the shag.

I do like her.

We like each other.

All yours.

Fucks sake!

Yeah, bro, been thinking.

Why don't you come work here?

Get out the house.

You know I got my portfolio to work on, man.

I'm busy.

It's my house too, you know.

It's your mum's house, mate.

She smashes more than you do.

Fuck off.

Just saying, bro.

You seen that Rhea girl?

Who?

The one who asked me to dance.

Out your league, lad.

I did ask around about her, though,

and apparently she doesn't even have a phone.

Why are you asking about her phone number?

She'd have social media either.

So what?

She's different.

She's weird, mate.

I mean, who doesn't have social media nowadays?

Don't like that.

I do.

I bet you do.

Fucking weirdo.

All right?

Did you slam the door earlier?

No.

Must have been the wind.

Making Spag' bol'.

Will John be eating with us again?

Do you have a problem with that?

No.

Your life.

Yeah, it is, and-- and it's my home.

I think he wants a word with you later.

About what?

I'm moving in.

What?

You can't be serious.

Are you serious?

That's a bit soon, innit?

Not at our age, no.

John has a lovely flat in Hornsey.

So he can live there.

Well, we were thinking, you could sublet it.

You kicking me out?

No, of course not.

Yes, she is.

How the fuck am I even going to pay for rent?

You could get a job like the rest of the--

Oh what, like a rat catcher?

At least he has a paying profession.

I told you, Mum, it takes time to build a portfolio.

How long, Thomas?

How long are you going to lock yourself away in your room?

Working on your bloody portfolio.

I'm an artist, Mum.

-It takes-- -No, you're lazy!

I've made it too easy for you.

Now my house is filthy.

There's rotting food everywhere.

There's mice upstairs, Thomas.

That's my fault, is it?

Time to cut the apron string, lad.

Who the fuck even are you?

I don't even know who he is.

I'm pest control.

Are you--

Well.

I thought that went well.

This would be good for you.

I made you spag' bol' for your dinner.

Thanks.

Won't be long.

Right then, that's the lot.

So, electric and gas, 200 pound a month

But you can blame Rich ball, sad sack for that,

Or Vladimir poo stain.

There you go, and water rates, council tax.

Welcome to the Horror Show, kid.

Oh, my fucking life.

And five pound on electric, please.

Five pound?

Yeah.

Okay.

Five pound.

Spare some change, brother.

Sorry, man, that's all I got.

They bleed us dry, huh?

Yeah, hello?

Bro, where you at?

Uh...

I don't know, man.

I think you should get down here.

No, no, I'm broke.

Bro, Rhea--

What?

Get down--

...is here.

No, I can't hear you, you can't--

Rhea's here!

Yo, water.

Fuck, bro, you're thirsty.

Where is she?

Booth.

Don't overthink it, just go over and talk to her.