#jarfoyle

“Bertram? Bertram Gilfoyle, is that you?”

Gilfoyle turns around at the sound of a nervous reedy voice behind him. He finds himself facing a tall, disturbingly thin man with the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. Something about those eyes and that voice is vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place it.

“Do I...know you?” he asks awkwardly.

“It’s me, Donald,” the man says. “Donald Dunn? From the math team in high school?”

Against his will, Gilfoyle finds himself smiling. “Donald. Of course.” He’d never admit it but he’s missed Donald, has often found himself wondering what happened to the sad scrawny foster kid he befriended. “How have you been? Last time I saw you was the day you left for Vassar, right?”

Donald nods. “I’ve been...well, mostly.” he says. “I go by Jared now, though - my boss called me that on the first day and it just kind of stuck.”

“Where do you work now?” Gilfoyle asks.

“Hooli. I’m Gavin Belson’s right hand man.” Donald - Jared - smiles sheepishly. 

“What’s that like?” Gilfoyle asks. 

“It’s an incredible opportunity,” Jared says. “The work is...grueling, but rewarding. We’re making the world a better place.”

Gilfoyle smirks. “You’re fucking miserable, aren’t you?”

Jared looks around furtively. “Well,” he says, “it’s...compared to some other situations I’ve been in, this isn’t that bad. At least it pays well, I’ve paid off most of my student debt. But enough about me, how have you been? You went to MIT, right?”

Gilfoyle nods. “Yeah, and now I’m living in an incubator with a bunch of other coders, working on...a couple different things, actually. I’ve got a music app going, and a bitcoin rig, and when I have the resources to set up my own server stack I want to go into cybersecurity.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Jared says, and from anyone else that would sound disingenuous but Gilfoyle knows Jared means it.

“It’s pretty cool,” he says. “Doesn’t pay as well as Hooli, though. Or at all, really. I do some freelance stuff on the side to have actual money.”

“But at least you’re doing something you love,” Jared says. “Listen, I have to run, but we should catch up sometime. Here, I’ll give you my number.” He writes his phone number down on a Post-It and hands it to Gilfoyle. “Give me a call, we should meet up for coffee or something.”

but in the long tresses of your hair / i am a babbling brook

Jared’s jaw dropped with horror when he saw how messy Gilfoyle’s room actually was. Junk covered every inch of the floor and every available surface.

Gilfoyle raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope!” Jared said quickly. “Thank you again for letting me bunk with you.”

“Never use the word bunk again,” Gilfoyle said.

He grabbed a big garbage bag and shoved junk from the floor into it, then did the same with a second bag until a spot on the floor was clear. He tossed both of the bags aside.

“There,” Gilfoyle said.

Jared nodded and spread out his blanket on the floor.

“You know I’m only doing this because Anton needs his own room, right? It’s not good for him having your snoring, thrashing body around all night.”