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Panel 1: Denver presses the heel of his good hand into his brow, grimacing. "Fuck. I don't wanna talk to her. I never meant for her to see that side of me."

Panel 2: Tomás turns away, from Denver and from the conversation. He tugs on the ends of the trapper hat ear flaps as he pulls the hat over his head. He sighs, "She was bound to, sooner or later. Look man, I gotta go. I'm already late."

Denver looks small and sad, his posture slouched as he sits on the couch. He replies, "Yeah, alright. Sorry for keeping you."

Panel 3: The camera zooms in on Denver, where he's embraced in shadow, the sunlight not quite reaching him. It does, however, illuminate the two broken halves of his skateboard.

From off-panel, Tomás adds, "Oh, but Denver?"

Panel 4: Tomás looks over his shoulder at Denver, unsmiling. He finishes, "I'm not bailing you out again."

Panel 5: Now alone, Denver falls back into the couch's backrest with a 'WHUMPF.' The rest of their shared living room is revealed: a lone bicycle tire rim, a stool that doesn't go with any of their other furniture, a heavy-looking wooden shelf filled with even more clutter. A turntable, a cardboard box, spray paint cans, a vintage boombox, a soccer ball, a box of what might be more vinyl albums.