Holding a small glass of whiskey on the rocks, Richard looks down at the city nightlife from his living room. He leans on the glass a bit to get a better look at the sidewalk below him.
“What determines the worth of a man? The knowledge they ascertained through life, their morals and values that shape their views and lifestyle? The items that they surround themselves with?”
Richard takes a sip from his glass and looks back into the living room. Luxurious furnishings, all of which are covered in ivory white, expensive paintings and sculptures decorate the marble tile floors, a large flat screen television set up with full entertainment station; the living room of a wealthy man.
Richard walks over to one of his couches and sits back, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him. He puts his feet up on it and goes back to his personal discussion.
“If a man follows a code of conduct, or some kind of code of honor to go about his life, does that make them a valuable person to others? Does that increase their actual worth, how much it would cost you to obtain their services?”
Letting everything goes to his head, Richard gets a small migraine and rubs his eyes for a moment, “Damn it, I’m starting to sound like a philosophy major student.”
“Well, some people find philosophy not only to be sophisticated, but also attractive.”
A womanly voice gently speaks from behind Richard, followed by the sound of wet footsteps. When she approaches Richard from behind, she reaches over the back of the couch and wraps her water soaked arms around his neck.
“Personally, I find it boring and tiresome at time.”
“Then why do you have all of those books about Hobbes and Machiavelli in your personal study?”
“I read them to help me fall asleep sometimes. A girl does need her beauty sleep after all and what better way to fall asleep than to read about a guy rambling on about ‘human nature this’ and ‘human nature that?’”
Richard looks up and sees a blonde haired woman looking at him with a sarcastic smile on her face. Even though he’s seen her dozens of times, he always likes to take a moment to carefully look over every small detail of her peach, blemish-free face.
With a chuckle, Richard replies, “It’s hard to tell if all of that sleep is helping. You still have some bags under your eyes.”
“You ass,” the woman snares back. Although she gave an angry reaction, all she does is lightly pluck Richard on his nose and climbs over the couch, sitting next to him. “You’re lucky I care about you, or else I would have ripped you a new one.”