Ponyboy sat at the bar with his laptop. He was never one for formal social events or, well, social events at all really but for some reason, he felt tonight was a special occasion… Okay, that was a bold faced lie, the venue just so happened to have fast internet and a weak firewall along with a lot of phones connecting themselves to that unprotected WiFi network. So, naturally, he was digging. Not for any particular reason besides his own curiosity, really, but hell, that’s what he did best, and God, these events were so fucking boring.
He had only partially dressed up for the occasion, nice black pants, shiny new belt, and a white button up, three buttons open, and, well, black beat up converse sneakers. He couldn’t be expected to completely clean up his act for one stupid night, that was just unrealistic. So there he was, sat cross-legged on the bar stool, computer on and a list of files that did not belong to him on his system’s screen. People really didn’t think much of their privacy. Even with the semi-recent iCloud leak everyone was still walking around without proper mobile protection. Steve Jobs was bound to be rolling in his grave.
He had a headphone in and was scrolling through someone’s text messages, only half reading the contents, when he felt a presence behind him and immediately tilted his screen down so whoever it was couldn’t see. Instead of turning around to face them, he looked to the bartender. “Can I get a Stella?” He ordered, always pleased with the United Kingdom’s drinking laws, before finally addressing the presence, still not turning to them as he took a sip. “You don’t have to just stand there, you know. You can order whenever you want.”