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Jeff stopped what he was doing and turned back to face his bud. "No...not really. I've been around the stuff my whole life. Sometimes I like looking at it, as you know, but I can live with or without it...unlike you."

Dick-head, I can live without it," Devon complained. "I just like..."

Yeah, I know what you like, you perv. Come on, let's get this done so we can have some lunch and maybe shoot some hoops."

Devon wandered away from the bench and proceeded to help Jeff stack a bunch of wood scraps against an inner wall. However, in very short order he found himself back at the drawer with a screwdriver in his hand. There was just enough of a gap to insert the blade between the drawer and bench, which is exactly what the boy did.

Jeff was adrift in a pile of old rags and coveralls and had briefly lost track of Devon, but when he turned to see his friend, peering through a quarter inch gap above the locked drawer, he freaked.