[ It's too bad Fabian hasn't gotten within eyeballing range yet, because Krouse's arm flung over his forehead is one for the books in terms of exhausted gesturing. ]

Okay. Maybe he's worried I'll just fuck up your lives or get you shot. Or shoot you. Does it matter? I don't care, man, this isn't - Jesus.

[ At least Fabian knows who that is now, sort of. Krouse takes a hard drag on his cigarette and exhales through his nose, hoodie sleeve pressed to his clammy face. ]

Maybe he thinks I have a shitty haircut and I'll ruin your Class of Whatever The Fuck Year This Is group photo in the yearbook. Why not.