[To be fair, Tim's not exactly all that good at exhibiting enjoyment in any way, shape, or form. Anhedonia's a real pain the ass, but no one here needs to know that. A flower drifts from her jacket and brushes the tip of his worn sneaker. Tim blinks at it. It's inoffensive in its presence but -
He presses aside the nostalgia that threatens to eat away at his composure. That's not his nostalgia; he's not the one with an affinity for flowers.]
We had to guess the, uh...there were these shapes on the cage's floor. We had to guess the animal they belonged to.
[The Pokémon. They had to guess the Pokémon.
Tim never actually endured a rousing Saturday morning game of Who's that Pokémon? but his passing experience with the game in the form of a cage puzzle in which the consequence for failure was death by drowning in freezing cold salt water has ensured that he'll be quite happy to never actually play said game in his life.]
no subject
He presses aside the nostalgia that threatens to eat away at his composure. That's not his nostalgia; he's not the one with an affinity for flowers.]
We had to guess the, uh...there were these shapes on the cage's floor. We had to guess the animal they belonged to.
[The Pokémon. They had to guess the Pokémon.
Tim never actually endured a rousing Saturday morning game of Who's that Pokémon? but his passing experience with the game in the form of a cage puzzle in which the consequence for failure was death by drowning in freezing cold salt water has ensured that he'll be quite happy to never actually play said game in his life.]