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Hart was having an awful time comparing and contrasting the intricacies of Mayan and Aztec cultures. While he was grateful that he was finally working on his weekend homework, his mind drifted off every now and again to Casey. He just couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful redhead and his slender, loving body that he'd had the pleasure of the night before. As he continued with his work, the thoughts became more prevalent. It got so bad that his last assignment was invaded with a fantasy of Casey in a tattered loincloth on all fours, kneeling on the steps of an Aztec pyramid. He was crying for Hart to save him from sacrifice; his tears tracing trails in dirt that'd been kicked in his face. His mind was enraptured by the imaginary captive; just the thought of his helplessness in that ridiculously revealing getup started to strain more than Hart's concentration.

He had to snap out of it and get his work done, but moreover, he had to see Casey. He ignored the connotation of his desperation to see Dave's brother, but used it in a motivational thought that read: "getting this shit finished = seeing him sooner." With that, he powered through his history assignment. Printing neatly and making valid points while juxtaposing his answers with evidence from the textbook. When he finished he took of his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked hard. His eyes felt dry with the concentration he'd applied to his work. He looked to his alarm clock on his nightstand and saw a red, blocky "4:17pm". It was still early enough to catch a matinee. He stretched and yawned dramatically before reapplying his glasses, ...

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