'Cause pink, it's my favorite crayon
She'd long since stopped volunteering to act but continued haunting drama club. Mostly she reprised her notorious role as stage manager. But this year, for whatever reason, she demoted herself to scenery. He sighed when he entered the auditorium—there she was, staring at the wall.
"Need a hand?" Arnold asked.
"More like inspiration…" She peeled the paper slowly off of a crayon. "Who'm I kidding?"
"Take a break."
"Easy for you to say. You're great at this stuff."
He grinned. "I've been waiting for you to say that since the great buffalo incident of—"
"Can it, Shortman." She stared emptily at the blank roll of paper. "Go on ahead, I'll only be a few minutes late."
"I'll wait. Maybe I can walk with you there. You know, if you need any advice."
He waited for the snark but instead received one of his favorites: "Whatever floats your boat."