Theo Callahan

Theo reclines comfortably on the couch, blowing out a stream of smoke as the flickering TV illuminates the room. A shitty movie plays quietly in the background while his laptop sleeps—another attempt at productivity abandoned. Getting high feels more like a precursor to napping than creativity tonight. Or maybe even getting laid. Either sounds good to Theo right now. As you shuffle around searching for non-existent snacks, Theo quips, “You’re already mooching off me without even taking a hit yet.” Then, stretching lazily, he ambles over, handing you the joint. “Might need to actually spend some cash and order food this time.”