Phineas yawned. He'd done the most he could last night as far as the hacking went. It had simplified things that a rumor on a conspiracy forum about someone working there had panned out. And that that someone used the same email address for casual and work emails. Plus, their password was password. One would think government agents wouldn't fall into that trap.

Overall, it was almost too easy.

"Phineas?"

The voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place it as he looked around. The street was busy this time of day, he wasn't sure how anyone would even see him to recognize him.

Phineas jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

When he turned around, the man started speaking, "I thought that was you. No one else in this city has that hair that red."

"Hey," Phineas dragged out the word. There was brown hair sticking out from under the guy's beanie and a kind smile on his face. Phineas' brow furrowed. He knew him. He knew he knew him. "Django?" the name slipped from him before he could question his guess.

Judging by the smile he got in return, he'd guessed right. "Yeah, how have you been? I haven't seen you since like high school."

"I'm okay." Someone bumped into Phineas from behind.

"We should catch up!" Django looped one tattooed arm around Phineas' shoulders as he started walking. "I know this awesome cafe that's on the next block over. Steam Noir, you ever been?"

Shaking his head, Phineas let himself be led. It could be nice to catch up with his old friend. It wasn't like they hadn't talked at all since Django moved out of Danville, but their paths had diverged. It was only normal to fall out of touch.

The coffeehouse was somewhat crowded, but no one there looked happy to be there. The only people smiling were Django and a woman browsing one of the two bookshelves in the place.

Django let him go when they got to the counter. "I'll have a soy, hazelnut, vanilla, white mocha with caramel. Phineas?"

"Are you buying mine?" Phineas tried to put some humor into his tone, even though he was completely serious. He could see the prices, he wasn't spending ten bucks on a drink or on any other outrageously priced item here.

He stared at Phineas a moment. "Dude, your mom's loaded, you can't find the pocket change for a coffee?"

"No. You just said it, my mom's got money, not me." And she wasn't loaded either. She got by on the royalty checks and her concerts, and he knew she had enough to retire on if she ever decided to, but she wasn't rich.

The barista handed off the complicated drink, and Django paid. She cleared her throat, cueing them to move on if Phineas wasn't ordering. They did.

Sliding into a chair by one of the large windows, Django picked the conversion back up, "So what? Did she cut you off totally?"

Phineas plopped down across from him. And immediately frowned at the hard cushion on the seat. He glanced over to the sofas, wondering if they were more comfortable. "No."

"Then what's the problem, man?" Django reached into his shirt pocket.

"For your information, I'm making my own way in life rather than leach off of her and her ill-gained success." Once he said it, he flinched. That whole 'think before you speak' thing? He really needed to remember to put it into practice.

Fingers halfway out his pocket, Django froze. "That's harsh, man. I remember her, she's good people." He pulled out something white, his other hand coming up with a lighter.

"Yeah, I know." Looking at the white stick thing, Phineas frowned. "What is that? A cigarette? Can you smoke here?" Twisting in his chair, he glanced around for any sign about it. Most places had banned indoor smoking. Some even banned smoking on the property outside their buildings.

"Nah," he held it up like a prize, "this here's a joint."

"A joint," Phineas deadpanned.

"It's legal."

"Not here." When Django just shrugged and lit it, Phineas scowled. He could already smell it, despite the almost overwhelming scent of coffee. "Seriously, what the hell happened to you?"

"I'm an artist." He paused to take a breath of the smoke and enjoy it before letting it back out. "The circles I hang with expect a certain demeanor. If you don't stay up with the times, you get left behind." Another puff. "That's why I'm here. The Jefferson County Museum of Contemporary Art is setting me up with an exhibit." He took a sip of his coffee.

That made Phineas smile. "That's great. You still into the, uh, graffiti art?" He'd never been into the style.

"Street art," Django corrected before grinning. "Nah, I got out of that a few years back. It got too mainstream. Now, I'm into miniatures."

Phineas couldn't stop a laugh. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "What's your dad think of that?"

Beppo Brown was an environmental installation artist whose specialty was sculptures of oversized versions of everyday objects. For Django to go into miniatures, it sounded like a strange way of following his dad's footsteps with his own figuratively smaller ones.

"He's proud." Shrugging, Django seemed to become overly interested in his coffee cup. "He's always proud of us." He took a sip. "We did an exhibit together, using the size differences to create optical illusions..."

Phineas nodded, gaze wandering to the window as he listened.

Green hair. It was just a flash, but it made his mouth go dry. Even if it was him, he wouldn't see Phineas. He couldn't. There were too many cars passing by for someone on the opposite side of the street to see him in here. Still, Phineas subconsciously leaned back in his seat, searching for another glimpse.

And, seriously, why were there so many people out on the street today?

"...will you come?"

Phineas blinked, turning back to his old friend, even as his mind was still on the person outside.

When he didn't reply, Django clarified, "To the opening of my exhibit? You always went with me when my dad had one in town." He glanced down to Phineas' wrist, the sleeve cover it having ridden up a few inches when he'd leaned back. "Bring your soulmate if you want."

"No." The word slipped out before Phineas groaned. "I mean, yes, I'll come, but I don't think bringing him would be a good idea right now."

Django's eyebrows had risen while Phineas spoke. "Him?"

Shit.

Taking a long breath on his joint, Django stared at him.

"Yes, him." Did it really matter? It wasn't like Django would run off to scream it from the rooftops or something.

"I almost pity the dude."

Phineas blinked. What was that supposed to mean? "Excuse me?"

"Forget it, man." Django rested his chin in his empty hand. "How's the therapy going?"

"I'm not in therapy, now what did you mean by-"

"They finally give you that clean bill of health?"

Phineas scowled. "You're not going to answer my question are you?"

He shrugged. "Dunno."

Seeing where this was going, Phineas sighed. "Look, I'm fine, alright? I'm over it. Past it. Whatever."

"You talk to Baljeet?"

Phineas couldn't stop the incredulous laugh. Like Baljeet would ever willing talk to him after what happened. He wouldn't be surprised if the guy had a restraining order against him. Or he might just be betting on his soulmate breaking Phineas' back if he ever got that close. "I said I'm over it, not him."

Django frowned slightly at him. "Everybody knows it was an accident, Phin. He can't hold it against you forever." Leaning back, he spread out his arms. "Love, peace, forgiveness. You gotta let all that shit in man."

"Right," he dragged out the word. "Cause I really want to let shit in."

Letting his arms fall, Django rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah." It was still easier said than done. It wasn't even like he'd been friends with Baljeet before the incident. And afterwards... He absently rubbed at his chest.

Maybe one day they'd get there.