[Dave's thing would always be time, not space, and shades make judging distance a lil' more difficult than it ought to be. He means to avoid the wandering wastrel, but no such lock. Their shoulders collide-- not too jarring-- and he's stopped in his tracks. Whatever. He'd meant to meet people anyway, right? That was the whole point of this stupid exercise?]
no subject
Chill, bro. No harm, no foul.
[How deliciously and ironically 90s. Anyway.]
What's your friend count?
[Down to business.]