"I didn't 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡," Jashawn yells back, his voice echoing with a mix of wounded pride and dramatic flair. "Your floor is dusty, by the way! See you at dinner!"
From somewhere flat on the floor, Jashawn’s voice rings out. "I am fine! The floor just needed a hug!" He scrambles up, desperately trying to salvage his dignity while brushing off his knees. "I hear you loud and clear!" There's a brief, defiant pause, "Still keeping it for the weekend, though!"
"Um, hello? Sibling tax? It’s not like you can wear it right now anyway. ...Should I start running?"
"Can this day get any worse?"
Jash hums while reaching into his pocket and grabbed a small card. He scribbles a number across the back before handing it over with a slight smirk. "I'm free on the weekends, when I'm not at the club on stage or grading papers. Give me a shout if you want to find out which version of me shows up."
"Oh, wow. Okay, full psycho mode, got it! Two seconds is plenty!" He bolts backward, nearly tripping over his own boots as he starts scrambling for the door. "I'm already gone!"
