[it's 11am on a Monday and Robin has given up trying to do pretty much anything ever. he thinks he might stay at this picnic table for the rest of his life. it'd be easier than bothering with reality. he has chip fries, here. he hasn't had chip fries in like four-hundred years.
everyone keeps calling them "french fries" for some reason, but he has no idea what "french" means, and he's trying not to let it bother him.
so when some highschool cutie drops down at his table all friendly-like, he's surprised enough to stop his mopey munching, straighten up, and shoot her a smile back. what a nice little thing.]
Existential crisis. Real boring. Want some fries?
[he'll hold out the box. c'mooon, you know you want to.]
no subject
everyone keeps calling them "french fries" for some reason, but he has no idea what "french" means, and he's trying not to let it bother him.
so when some highschool cutie drops down at his table all friendly-like, he's surprised enough to stop his mopey munching, straighten up, and shoot her a smile back. what a nice little thing.]
Existential crisis. Real boring. Want some fries?
[he'll hold out the box. c'mooon, you know you want to.]