Ian pounded his open palms against the inch thick glass that separated him from the source of his immense frustration. Who the hell has a vending machine in their fucking house? he thought to himself, now banging with his fists against the damned machine that refused to give him his soda, despite having happily accepted his money just moments before. This is what I get for being talked into coming to a party at some rich snob's house. Despite the fact that everyone who was anyone had been talking about the party for months, Ian had had no interest whatsoever in attending said party. Apparently though, getting invited to millionaire Matthew Chase's birthday party was a big fucking deal, and so Ian had let himself be persuaded by friends of his who'd also been invited. He continued in vain for a few minutes to try and get the machine to change its mind and give him the soda that really wasn't worth the trouble and that Ian didn't even want that much. Apparently that wasn't going to happen though, so Ian gave up with a defeated sigh and a final bang on the glass.