Every once in a while, when the boys have been on their best behavior - by which, of course, he means that none of them have managed to get themselves caught in the middle of any of their unsavory extracurricular activities - he brings the residents of Litchfield House to Nino's for a night of grease and debauchery. ( As much as can be debauched at a pizzeria in the middle of the week, on a school night, when every one of them knows they should be putting their time to better use and, obstinately, refuses. )

It should go without saying that there's a small part of him that would rather be in his room, sans pants, watching someone else play a video game that he can't be bothered to play for himself.

He's just coming out of the restroom, a wad of paper towels in his hands when he almost bumps into Noah, standing there as he is, looking as though the world might just end for his lack of quarters. He pauses, searches through his pockets, finds a few bits of lint among his keys, wallet and phone, and he frowns.

"Small change, always a problem." He huffs out a breath, good-naturedly. "I bet if you pulled hard enough, you could just snag one. Not that I'm advocating petty theft." Ah, and there's a smile. "Have you tried looking on the floor for runaway coins?"

Henry.