Yeah, I am. I mean, I'm into art. I'm just not sure this school is for me. [ Or any school. He looks out the window, drumming his fingers along the edge of the seat, and he bites his bottom lip thoughtfully before speaking again. ] So I'm kind of flunking everything, and I was supposed to talk to my advisor today about it, but we've talked so many times before and I don't want to talk anymore. I don't think I'm bad at art. But I don't want to do any of this stuff. [ He wants to do what he wants to do, but that varies on any given day. Some days, he doesn't want to do anything at all, and he knows that's not really the way to become a real artist. One that gets paid. Political science sounds even worse. ] So, what, you want to run the country someday? [ It does sound a little more practical.

He glances at the corner, the lights of a popular late-night burger place coming into view. It's always packed with students who need something to soak up the alcohol in their system. ] I just want fries. And ice cream. Vanilla, in a cone. [ He fumbles through his jacket for a moment and drops a huge wad of bills on the floor, and they go scattering around their feet. He makes a little noise of frustration and ends up crawling around Larus' legs to gather them all up. His voice is muffled when it comes from below. ] I want chocolate sprinkles on the cone. Not the colorful kind. [ His hand pops up between his knees to hold up a five. ]