You wave at the guy smoking outside your friend's house as you enter in freely, walking to the end of the hall and knocking on a door with a rock band poster on it.
"Come in" Ignas beckons.
You enter a dimly lit room, few candles are set up alongside black-out curtains and a dark bedspread. Ignas, combatting the heat, is lying shirtless on his bed watching his tv. When he spots you, he pauses it and pats the bed.
"How's my favourite guy doing?" he asks, his stomach rumbling quietly.