It's the holidays in lower East Side of New York City. Artie was filming people for a documentary. The people had fits that he was doing that, so he left to go back to the apartment. He opened the door and walked in.
"You stayed in the apartment all day, Elliot?" Artie said to him.
"Yeah. Like I keep saying, I'm trying to finish this one song." Elliot said while plucking the the strings on his guitar. He was laying on the couch, his feet on the arm rest.
Artie just sighed and put his bag on the table, camera still in hand which is recording. He got a water from the package of waters. "You need to get out. You can't be cooped up in here."
"Yeah, yeah."
The phone rings. "Screening the call." The voicemail chimes having the two guys saying, 'speak'.
"Chestnuts roasting," a familiar voice said.
"Blaine?" Artie and Elliot said simultaneously. Artie picked up the phone. "Hey."
"I'm downstairs." Blaine said. "Did Elliot answer?"
"No," Artie said. "It's Artie."
"Well I'm downstairs. Throw down the keys." Artie went to the window and looked for Blaine. He spotted him and threw the lets down. Blaine caught them. He hears people walking towards him. "I may be detained." He hangs up the phone. Artie and Elliot get confused.
The guys Blaine heard coming beat him up and threw him to a brick wall nearby. He winces in pain. His nose was bleeding and they ripped his jacket off.
"What does he mean-?" Artie asked confused but got interrupted by the phone ring. Artie answers.
"Ho, ho, ho," another familiar voice said.
"Damn. It's Hunter." Artie said in disgust. "What is it?"
"I'm on my way," Hunter said. Artie cursed under his breath. "I need the rent."
"What rent?" Elliot asked.
"This last years rent that I let slide," Hunter explained.
"You said we were golden," Artie said.
"When you bought the building," Elliot said. "When we were roommates. Remember?"
"How can I forget?" He said in distaste. "You two , me, Blaine, and Rachel. How is the drama queen?"
"She's performing tonight," Artie said.
"I know. Still her production manager?"
"Nope," Artie said. "Got bumped."
"Still dating her?"
"Got dumped a few days ago," Artie said then sighed.
"She's in love," Elliot said with a grin.
"Who's the guys name?" Hunter said with a slight laugh.
"Dani," Elliott said with a bigger grin.
Hunter laughed. "Rent is due or else you will be evicted. Be there in a few." He hangs up. Elliot played his guitar.
A few minutes later, the power cuts off. "The power blows. Just great."
Elliot strummed his guitar angrily. "How do you document real life when it's getting more like fiction each day? These headlines are crazy. And this deadline." Artie said, a grunt following.
"How about writing a song when the chords sound wrong? They were right but also rare." Elliot said frustratedly. "Where's the power?"
"Let's just burn these papers and light the candles," Artie said getting old concert posters and grabbing candles. "Where's Blaine?"
Meanwhile, at Rachel's performance space, Dani called Rachel. "Don't screen Rach. It's me, Dani. Your substitute production manager. Did you eat? Don't switch the subject. You didn't eat at all. The digital delay? It didn't blow up exactly. Just a few sparks. Don't call Artie."
Blaine was laying on the ground, still bleeding and hurting. "How the hell can I get on my feet? Every corner is a trick or treat. I should just lay down. Barely seeing stuff. Feeling sick."
Hunter was on his phone, talking to his girlfriend. "I can't believe those two. I tried helping them. But they'll see. I can help them in the long run."
"I'm not a theater person, Rach." Dani said. "Never was."
"I can't think," Blaine said.
The phone rings in the apartment. "Hello?" Artie said. "The equipment isn't working? I'll go down to fix it." He hangs up. "I'll be back shortly. Get out of the damn place."
"Where are you going?" Elliot said.
"Guess who," Artie rolls his eyes and Elliot tried not to laugh. "Don't forget to take those pills. You need them." He leaves.
A street drummer was playing the pickle tub. People just pass by. Some give him some money, which he thanks and put the money in his pocket. He hears a pained voice. He thought he was going crazy so he continues to play the pickle tub. The voice comes back again and the drummer picks up the tub and checks what's wrong. "Hello?" He said. "Hello?" He said again. He went to the alley and saw Blaine. He rushed to him.
"Hey. Are you ok?" The drummer said.
"Afraid so," Blaine said.
"Gay bashers? Hate them. Did they get anything?"
"No. Had nothing for them. But they ripped my coat. They missed a sleeve. Thanks."
"Hey. It's the holiday. May name's Bas. Sebastian. Some call me Angel."
"Angel? Indeed. Of the first degree. People call me Blaine. Blaine D.A. Collins."
"Come on. I got a meeting to go to. For AIDS."
"Same here."
"Wow. Looks like we'll get along well. Let me get changed and we can go. And I don't take no."
Seb goes out, looking at Blaine up and down. Blaine smiled and went with him, limping a little.