Tell me about it . . . [ him, of all people! getting whacked at and missing his friends, texting them about all these wonders makes him actually wonder, you know, if he's being missed. if they've noticed.

with his presence? of course they would, and he just hopes they'll be okay if he took a little inter-dimensional detour . . . except she says something that makes him turn his head and nearly miss the ice cream stand, making him gasp and literally take two steps backwards to guide them into the waiting line. ]

—!! Ahhh— [ he bends down, to get a look at his phone's battery. crap, he squeaks, when it's down to four and quickly swipes through so many selfies and random pictures of madagascar roaches before he stops at a video (recorded at a sport's tv viewing perspective, of course). ] Hopefully you'll see all of it—! That's volleyball!

[ there's a gap in the line; he steps and bends to guide her along as she watched. ]

You hit the ball over the net, see? Or you block 'em, [ enthusiastic!! points at himself!! ] Like me! I'm what you'd call a "Middle Blocker"! Name of the game's to hit the floor on the other side to score!