[ Why must you do this, Vietnam...!! What if he gives you cooties, what if. Both eyes snap open when he feels palms over his face, and he does protest, this time around— a pull of his head back, because surely that can't be comfortable, his burnt-off jaw. ]

...Would have been better if I'd chosen a different day to get sick. [ As if he could do that, but it's an offhanded cynical comment. ] And from the look of it, none of us knows how to skate. At least, no one I've talked to does.