(no subject)

[fistmele]

[ This guy has spent the last three hours in the sporting goods section. ]

Comments

[n00b]

Dude, you've been standing there for like, literally forever.

[fistmele]

[ Weird Guy In Sporting Goods holds out a finger, and somehow that finger lands exactly in the middle of Roy's chest. ]

I'm thinking.

[n00b]

[ Alright, dude, you made it weird.

Half question and half statement: ] You've been thinking. For hours.

[fistmele]

What's the time.

[ As if, for some inexpicable reason, he is physically incapable of looking at his own watch. Haha, like anybody has a watch anymore. I mean phone. ]

1/2

[n00b]

Time for you—

[n00b]

—to get a watch!

[ FUCKING NAILED IT ]

[fistmele]

[ Weird Guy at Sporting Goods actually blinks, then. He looks down at Roy like he's an oompa loompa in a world where oompa loompas are really not real, as in, like, reality. ]

What?

[n00b]

[ With completely disproportionate pleasure: ] Oh my god, for real? You've never heard that comeback before?

[fistmele]

Uh.

[ He looks a little dazed. ]

[n00b]

Okay, no, I gotta try something out on you—

What's brown and sticky?

[fistmele]

Uh.

[n00b]

A STICK.

[ what is hAPPENING??? ]

[ficus]

[ She speaks behind him. ] So, what's it like: falling asleep standing up?

[fistmele]

[ He makes an embarrassing noise, one that sounds kind of like mrnghashdhg. ]

I'm not asleep.

[ He was, but he's going to save face and pretend like that tennis racket is super interesting. ]

[ficus]

Not currently, maybe.

Can't account for whatever the hell it was you were doing a minute ago.

[ She squints at the racket. ] Never figured you one for tennis.

[fistmele]

I play all sports, [ he says stiffly, because his brain is alert but that part of him that lies isn't. He's trained to spot dangers, not, uh, come up with clever and pithy excuses. ]

Good for my. Strings. Hamstrings. [ He groans, rubbing the heel of his hand into an eye. ]

Sorry, Maya.

[ficus]

Your strings. Right.

[ Her eyebrows raise, her arms fold beneath her chest. ] For—?

[fistmele]

[ With the kind of reluctance that comes with a child being caught in the act: ]

Falling asleep.

[ficus]

Are you kidding? I love standing in Costco for four hours.

[lostipod]

[ Well that's weird.

Darcy is going to "accidentally" knock a ball off something at him.

And by knock she means throw.

And by something she means her hand.

Whatever, he's weird, he doesn't get to not get balls thrown at him. ]

[fistmele]

[ Guess who snatches it right out of mid-air just before it hits his face?

This guy. ]

I was thinking.

[ Then why does he sound like a dude who just woke up from a nap. ]

[lostipod]

[ Oh, weird guy's got moves.

Also nice arms.

Darcy can look, it's a free country. ]

That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. "I can't actually read" is probably better and that's still, like... awful.

[fistmele]

You got me. I'm an illiterate circus freak.

[ Har, har. He finally seems to tear his eyes away from Mysterious Spot On Wall That Either Could Be Him Eyeing Up That Tennis Racket Or Nothing, lobbing her back the ball with a small underarm throw. ]

Think fast.

[lostipod]

Nah, you don't look weird enough to be a circus frea- hey!

[ Rude!

The ball hits her in the chest and everything. Ow. At least her boobs sort of helped her catch it. ]