Jace is lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come, when his father busts into the apartment, slamming the door open, as he always does. Jace quickly closes his eyes, pretending he's asleep. It rarely stops his father from doing anything loud and obnoxious.

This is apparently one of those nights where his dad doesn't get the memo, because almost immediately, he yells out, "Where the hell is my fucking chair?"

Leave it to his drunk ass dad to get this worked up over a piece of furniture. Part of Jace just wants to ignore him and pretend he's asleep, but he's learned his lesson about that. The only thing worse than talking back to his father is ignoring him.

"What chair?" Jace asks groggily.

"My chair!"

Jace rolls his eyes, only because he's alone in his dark bedroom where no one could see. "I'll find it tomorrow. Go to bed." He's already sure that won't cut it, so he rolls out of bed, prepared to go find it for him. 

"Not until I have my damn chair!" his dad yells back.

"You don't need your chair to go to bed. Just go sleep."

There's a pause, then, "Fine, but I want my chair back!"

Jace falls back into his bed with a long sigh. Why him? Why is it always him?

Suddenly, his dad yells out, "Who put my chair in my room?"

"Where else would it be?" Jace asks, losing his patience.

"In the living room!"

The living room? There are other chairs in the living room. Why would he need this particular chair?

"Why did you put it in my room?" his father demands.

"I didn't," Jace mutters, resting his head in his hands. "You must have in one of your drunken fits." Is it really a "fit" if he's always drunk, though? Louder, he says to his father, "I was just trying to clean the house and the chair got in the way. Sorry!"

They just moved, so the only thing he really would have had to clean up would be all the empty bottles, but his dad doesn't seem to pick up on that, instead just mumbling something about his idiotic son and how he deserved so much better. No change there.