"I'm-- I'm allowed?"

"Yeah, of course! --We probably shouldn't invite them today, though, uh, I think George had the right idea, it's getting kind of late. C'mon, I'll walk you to your room."

"I meaaan." Tommy tosses his mana storage in the air and doesn't bother to catch it; it lands on the table and rolls a little before stopping. "You could just leave me."

"Tommy! Don't-- don't joke about that."

"Well, Clay, have you noticed the-- you know, how I don't have a backpack, and the bags under my eyes? And then you come hang out with me all the time, but you also take all my shit? You're just-- you're just a monster."

"I didn't take any of your shit."

"You do! Every day you come and you take my shit! You're ruining my fucking life!"

Clay puts on a high-pitched voice and a fake accent: "You're ruining my life! Mom, get out of my room, I'm playing video games! That's-- that's what you sound like."

"That's not even f-- I do not sound like that. I could just-- I could just stay out after curfew, and you would be able to do nothing about it, and I’d be donezo."

"I ask you, please, not to."

...

"Okay."