Boober's tail rarely waves back and forth like it is now, even at his happiest, but this is exciting. Learning to prepare something new was a delight, no matter what food it was.
Passing the baby over to Riz, however, is anything but delightful. Boober is terrified of hurting her with every motion, and so the process is slow and hesitant. He's humming all the while - though it sounds tense - both for the baby's sake and his own.
"Oh, thanks goodness," he breathes out in relief, once just Riz's arms are holding the baby. He smiles, however weakly, down at her. "See? I'll, uh, I'll handle all the worrying."
Hey, Riz gets it. Babies are really frightfully fragile, and honestly, nobody should've trusted him with one. At least when you acquire a baby through the normal way, you've got a couple of months of preparation. Riz had thrust himself into it with absolutely no groundwork (always a frightful thing for him) and he had given Boober even less time to prepare.
When the baby is back in his arms, Riz very gently bounces her until she has settled once again, before getting to his feet.
"Okay, follow me. And bring those." With his arms occupied, he can only vaguely wave at the tins of formula and bottles on the table with his tail, so he just hopes Boober can read his intent.
"Right," Boober says, getting right to action gathering those supplies. Then he follows, right behind Riz, to the kitchen. For now, both his nerves and the baby's cuteness must go ignored.
He's very attentive when being taught-- Well, when being taught something he deems actually relevant to him, anyway. Less so when it comes to things like Red's latest method for doing the perfect dive (there's no such thing, they all make a splashy mess that leaves bystanders damp!) or Fabian's guidelines on how to tell if a watch was actually made by the manufacturer someone said it was (why does it matter, so long as it tells the time?) --and this is no exception.
Riz can tell the difference between a real and a fake fantasy Rolex, but only in so far as he needs it to work his job. Small details like that can say a lot about a person. And the kind of crimes they partake in.
And really, even a real, genuine fantasy Rolex will never be as cool as a heavenly fucking spy watch.
"Okay, so the way you make this stuff is that you have to mix a certain amount of powder from the tin with cool-ish water. You have to boil the water first though cause of the germs." That, at least, will be something that very much resonates with Boober. "How much powder you need depends on how old the baby is and what race. They've got a whole list on their website, which I'm gonna print out and stick on one of the cabinets or something."
As he listens, Boober smiles brightly. This happiness - unlike that which he felt while holding the baby - is entirely familiar... The joy of clearly set rules, put in place for the sake of health and wellbeing?
It's not the same as being able to cook for her, no, but it's still quite good. And as he sets to following Riz's instructions, he carries himself with the same intent and energy on display when he's preparing any other kind of meal.
"Good idea. I'll clear out a cabinet just for her, for all the things needed to make her food, and we'll tape it up in side that cabinet door."
Riz nods. In normal circumstances, he might even have motioned with his hands to underline what he is going to say next, but right now his arms are very much occupied. "Yeah, that works. My supervisor said we'll probably want to get a few more bottles. Her stomach is, like, really tiny right now, so she can't eat a lot at once, but she does need to eat really often. And nobody wants to run out of clean bottles at 3am."
Her tired tone and slightly haunted stare had given Riz the impression that his supervisor hasn't just been speaking in hypotheticals. For a moment, she had looked like the veteran of a war -- a baby feeding war.
But from the pictures on her desk, Riz knows she has three kids, so he can only presume that whatever trauma she had recalling those late nights hadn't been enough to keep her from actually going ahead and having more kids.
"Everything about her is really tiny right now." Boober still hasn't fully wrapped his mind around that part. She's so small, and she - in every way - absolutely needs bigger, older people to take care of her. Even in the act of preparing something for her to eat he finds himself distracted thinking about it.
"Does it scare you, too? That she's so..."
But he can only trail off, because small isn't the right word, not really. It's not her size on its own that's so overwhelming to think about.
That's certainly how Riz feels. She is small, yes, but small things aren't always fragile. He doesn't think of himself as fragile. And Boober is small but sturdy too. Some of his old pokemon were this small, and none had ever felt particularly fragile to him.
In the baby's case though, she is so very fragile. It makes Riz feel like if he moves wrong, he'll break her bones. It's a little scary to hold her, but it's also scary to put her down. What if he isn't there to protect her from-- well, he isn't even sure what exactly he is protecting her from, but clearly she is not capable of doing it herself. Not when she can't even see yet.
"Yeah. To be honest, I'm kinda shitting myself here. Nobody ever taught me how to take care of a baby, but-- I couldn't just leave her there either."
Boober nods, while running a hand over his scarf again and again. He's been fighting back the urge to freak out since Riz got back, and a nervous tic was bound to slip through at some point.
"Yeah. I've always taken care of people, but..." His voice is stressed, but he at least keeps it quiet. "But this is so different than anything I've ever done. The kind of care she needs-- I'm not even sure we give it to ourselves."
In very different ways, neither of them are at least all that good at it, he figures. They both need so much help.
"Well... it's always easier to care for other people than yourself."
A very concerning statement, but we don't have time to unpack that. We really don't. Boober may have seen the light of therapy, but Riz is still firmly against Such Things for him. He's fine. He'd rather go to prison (again) than talk to someone about his feelings.
"You take care of me and I take care of you, and I think we could take care of her. Just until I find her family." Though Riz realises he cannot really push Boober into this. He made a decision to take on this task, but Boober never really got a choice. "Unless... you really don't want to. You don't have to. I can't make you do this. It should be your own decision."
The answer comes quickly and naturally, Boober's voice even recovering - a little - from the strained whisper it just was. It confuses him how sure he is of that, and that's reflected in a not-quite-scrunch of his snout.
"I do. It's scary, how much she's going to need us while she's here, but... I think I kind of like it, too? Oh, it sounds stupid-- Or selfish," he sighs, before recommitting his focus to preparing the baby formula. "I don't know. But I want to be part of this. Because, well, you're right about us taking care of each other, and-- That's what this is."
"If you are gonna call it selfish, then probably everybody who ever had a kid is selfish." Riz shrugs a little. It's not a line of reasoning he particularly wants to go down. It feels too much like it belongs with overly dramatic teenagers with long bangs, writing sad sad songs.
(It makes him wonder, for just a moment, what ever became of that one kid The Bad Kids had ended up dealing with in high school -- what was his name again? Rudy or something?)
"I wouldn't know," Boober says simply, shrugging one shoulder. After all, parenting isn't big part of being a fraggle, not that he's ever known about-- Not that what they're going to be doing is parenting, he reminds himself, as the fear of messing up rushes forward in his mind. But they're still taking care of a baby for now, out of the blue.
Oh, although... When Boober turns to Riz and the baby with the prepared bottle, his mood seems a bit lighter.
"Hey, after we've talked to Sklonda... I'd like to talk to my dad about this, too. I figure, well, he knows what this can be like."
"Of course. I guess he has experience with this sort of thing. Just... let's not ask him for too much advice. He never did end up finding Grogu's family, after all."
And that is certainly not going to be Riz! He's going to find this baby's-- well, not parents, most likely, but grandparents, at least. Or aunts and uncles. Some sort of community she belongs with. He knows Mando started off with the same intentions, but well, he wasn't exactly much of a detective, was he?
For a second, there is clear confusion in Boober's expression. But that is, objectively, a true statement: Mando didn't find Grogu's family, but there's a dissonance, because it's not like Grogu was without one. He understands Riz's point, so the feeling of confusion - and just a bit of defensiveness - is very brief, and once it's passed, he gives a nod.
"Well, yeah, I wouldn't go to Dad for advice finding someone," Boober acknowledges, waving his hand as if to clear that idea away. "But he'll have advice on taking care of a baby without knowing about that beforehand."
"Yeah. Though... did Grogu really count as a baby when Mando found him? He was like... fifty, wasn't he?"
Riz has had the pleasure of meeting Grogu a few times now. He was a charming little menace. Definitely a honorary goblin, even if he was not one in actuality. But he's never quite adjusted to just how slow Grogu seems to grow. It's not the extensive lifespan itself -- Adaine and Fabian and maybe Fig have that too -- but he's never met anything that matures this slowly. Adaine might live centuries longer than him, but she had always grown and matured as fast as he had.
"With the way he behaved? Yeah, he counted as a baby," Boober scoffs, albeit with a smile. While he wouldn't say he thinks of Grogu as a brother, really, he's very fond of Mando's other son. Sure, when they'd first been able to meet, he was very insecure-- Mando had taken Grogu in first, before he'd met Boober at all. But as much of a troublemaker as Grogu is, he's lovable in his own way.
"I think how old counts as being grown or not can change a lot. Junior, the older of the Gorgs' kids? He's over five-hundred, but he's not nearly an adult yet." He shrugs with a dry sigh. "And of course, it's not like fraggles usually keep track with numbers at all. I didn't really think about having an age like that until I wound up in the pokemon world."
"Most fraggles have birthdays whenever they want. It'd be hard to keep track of, and even if you did, it'd be pretty meaningless." After all, following that principle, a fraggle of fifty and a fraggle of six could be the exactly same age; it was really just a count of how eagerly they threw birthday parties, which admittedly, most fraggles did pretty frequently.
Most. Boober still sticks mostly to the once a year birthday thing, as far as Riz knows. At least when he is here, outside of The Rock. Riz thinks he probably likes the mundanity and predictability of it. Mundane and predictable are two qualities Boober enjoys a great deal, after all. And what is more predictable than a birthday that you can see coming for weeks in advance?
But right, they were performing A Task.
"Once you've mixed the formula with water, you need to test it and make sure it's not too hot." Riz very carefully shuffles the baby in his arms to free up one hand, motioning with it. "Drip a tiny bit on your wrist and it should feel lukewarm."
Boober scoffs, shaking his head. He's very ready to gripe a bit about the frequency of birthday celebrations down at Fraggle Rock, and how it bothers him even more now that he has the concept of age as an exact number, not a general stage of life - because clearly the exact number is better, it's precise and that just makes his brain feel better about most anything--
Until Riz brings his focus back to the formula, and he's embarrassed to have gotten so distracted... Even if it's fair, generally speaking, to be distracted by frustrating nonsense! Still, you can't just do that when there's a baby around, which makes it very good thing this situation is temporary.
"Lukewarm?" Boober asks with a hint of a frown, though he does as he's instructed. It does seem like a safe temperature without being too cold, but... "Is there an exact temperature so we can be sure?"
He hadn't thought to ask for an exact temperature. He's as detail oriented as Boober, but 'Luke-warm against your wrist' had been exact enough for him. After all, he always had his wrists on him --barring very tragic incidents, but at that point, he probably shouldn't be in charge of a baby!-- but he didn't always have a thermometer on him.
(Or, well, there is probably a thermometer rattling around somewhere in his good ol' briefcase, but good luck finding it among all the detritus that had collected in it over the years.)
"She said that babies aren't very good at regulating their temperatures, so you need to have their formula be as close to their body temp as possible. Especially for something as small as her."
Just look at her! Even a small bottle of formula would be a pretty significant amount of food to her. Riz can certainly believe that would affect her body temperature as much as him devouring one of Basrar's family sized sundaes XXL.
(Which he has done and winning that bet had been worth all the stomach pain later)
Boober rubbed at his eye with the heel of his free hand, sighing. Alright, no specific rules wasn't his ideal here - it never was, really, he simply worked best with guidelines.
"Alright, well, let me check again." He's nervous, but another test from a drop on his wrist leaves him as certain as he can be... So of course, he's still nervous, but she has to eat. That's just the truth.
That said, as he holds the bottle out towards Riz, he can't help feel reluctant to hand over the job of feeding her. That's just... That's what he does for people!
"I'm sure if we check online, you'll be able to find an exact temp to work with." Few people would be soothed by nitpicking details like that -- many, frankly, would find them overwhelming-- but Riz knows Boober. And hey, if having a very exact temperature will make him feel better about this Whole Thing, then that feels like a very small trade off.
Riz notes the slight reluctance, but chalks it up to anxiety over the temperature. "Hey, I'm sure it's fine. Trust me, she has a way of letting you know when she's not okay with something."
Boober hasn't really experienced it yet, but Riz has lived through one full-blown meltdown cry and frankly, it's incredibly that something so small can produce so much noise!
"Here, lemme show you how to feed her. This part is actually kind of fun. She makes noises like a piglet."
Riz's offer to teach him has Boober brighten up, but he's still far from relaxed as he stands close at Riz's side to learn. Sure, he wants to be able to feed the baby, but he's scared to do it, as well.
But then, Boober can find a reason for being scared of most things if he thinks long enough, and his life sometimes feels like making decision after decision about if he wants to face down any given fear or not.
He doesn't want to be so tense, though. He doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, so as he leans right over Riz's shoulder, he notes, "You know, that's kind of what Wembley does when he's walking."
"Well, she definitely won't be walking any time soon."
When did babies do that anyway? One? Two? He'd have to ask his mom. Not that they'd be keeping her that long, of course! It'd just be background information. Perhaps a factoid to pass onto her family.
In any case, Riz makes himself reasonably comfortable on the couch, explaining his every action to Boober as he does so. "You should be holding her like this -- make sure to support her head cause her neck isn't strong yet. Not too high up, just enough that she is at a slight tilt."
The baby is too young to open her eyes yet, but whether it is the smell of the milk, or the way she is already starting to associate being held like this with getting fed, in any case she is starting to stir and make little, squeaking sounds.
"You should hold the bottle mostly flat -- like this, see." With a confidence that he doesn't fully feel --cause seriously, who left him in charge of a baby?-- Riz pops the end of the bottle into the baby's mouth, where she quickly begins to eat.
These instructions all make sense, which Boober of course appreciates. As scary as the idea was, it turns out to be easy enough to grasp-- In theory, at least. In practice, it's still nerve-wracking, just because of how much helps she requires and how fragile she is. That part stays scary, but it also does - once again - strike him as so endearing... Just how much she needs him and Riz.
Sure, it doesn't have to be them. And it won't always be! But that's not yet, and he just has to smile wide at her little squirms and her snuffling sounds. Even if it's just for now.
"Riz, have you ever--" Boober starts to ask, but cuts himself off as soon as he hears himself; realizes what he was about to ask. They should not be parents. Riz's job is too dangerous, and they're both still such... Scattered people when their thoughts get away with them. Boober himself, for that matter, doesn't even live here! He's just here a lot, sometimes, but he lives at Fraggle Rock.
And even if they ever wanted that be parents - which they haven't, and they don't, he's thinking too emotionally in this sentimental moment of a new experience - that's something they will plan for, to be as prepared as possible. It was what they were comfortable with. Even just bringing the idea of a child someday so spontaneously was a horrible idea.
So, instead of finishing that thought, Boober shook his head and leaned back against the couch with a sigh.
"Never mind, sorry." It's comforting, here, how bad Riz is at picking up on certain things socially. Boober hopes he won't have to explain anything away on the spot. "Ohh, it's been a long afternoon."
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Boober's tail rarely waves back and forth like it is now, even at his happiest, but this is exciting. Learning to prepare something new was a delight, no matter what food it was.
Passing the baby over to Riz, however, is anything but delightful. Boober is terrified of hurting her with every motion, and so the process is slow and hesitant. He's humming all the while - though it sounds tense - both for the baby's sake and his own.
"Oh, thanks goodness," he breathes out in relief, once just Riz's arms are holding the baby. He smiles, however weakly, down at her. "See? I'll, uh, I'll handle all the worrying."
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When the baby is back in his arms, Riz very gently bounces her until she has settled once again, before getting to his feet.
"Okay, follow me. And bring those." With his arms occupied, he can only vaguely wave at the tins of formula and bottles on the table with his tail, so he just hopes Boober can read his intent.
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He's very attentive when being taught-- Well, when being taught something he deems actually relevant to him, anyway. Less so when it comes to things like Red's latest method for doing the perfect dive (there's no such thing, they all make a splashy mess that leaves bystanders damp!) or Fabian's guidelines on how to tell if a watch was actually made by the manufacturer someone said it was (why does it matter, so long as it tells the time?) --and this is no exception.
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And really, even a real, genuine fantasy Rolex will never be as cool as a heavenly fucking spy watch.
"Okay, so the way you make this stuff is that you have to mix a certain amount of powder from the tin with cool-ish water. You have to boil the water first though cause of the germs." That, at least, will be something that very much resonates with Boober. "How much powder you need depends on how old the baby is and what race. They've got a whole list on their website, which I'm gonna print out and stick on one of the cabinets or something."
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It's not the same as being able to cook for her, no, but it's still quite good. And as he sets to following Riz's instructions, he carries himself with the same intent and energy on display when he's preparing any other kind of meal.
"Good idea. I'll clear out a cabinet just for her, for all the things needed to make her food, and we'll tape it up in side that cabinet door."
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Her tired tone and slightly haunted stare had given Riz the impression that his supervisor hasn't just been speaking in hypotheticals. For a moment, she had looked like the veteran of a war -- a baby feeding war.
But from the pictures on her desk, Riz knows she has three kids, so he can only presume that whatever trauma she had recalling those late nights hadn't been enough to keep her from actually going ahead and having more kids.
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"Does it scare you, too? That she's so..."
But he can only trail off, because small isn't the right word, not really. It's not her size on its own that's so overwhelming to think about.
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That's certainly how Riz feels. She is small, yes, but small things aren't always fragile. He doesn't think of himself as fragile. And Boober is small but sturdy too. Some of his old pokemon were this small, and none had ever felt particularly fragile to him.
In the baby's case though, she is so very fragile. It makes Riz feel like if he moves wrong, he'll break her bones. It's a little scary to hold her, but it's also scary to put her down. What if he isn't there to protect her from-- well, he isn't even sure what exactly he is protecting her from, but clearly she is not capable of doing it herself. Not when she can't even see yet.
"Yeah. To be honest, I'm kinda shitting myself here. Nobody ever taught me how to take care of a baby, but-- I couldn't just leave her there either."
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"Yeah. I've always taken care of people, but..." His voice is stressed, but he at least keeps it quiet. "But this is so different than anything I've ever done. The kind of care she needs-- I'm not even sure we give it to ourselves."
In very different ways, neither of them are at least all that good at it, he figures. They both need so much help.
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A very concerning statement, but we don't have time to unpack that. We really don't. Boober may have seen the light of therapy, but Riz is still firmly against Such Things for him. He's fine. He'd rather go to prison (again) than talk to someone about his feelings.
"You take care of me and I take care of you, and I think we could take care of her. Just until I find her family." Though Riz realises he cannot really push Boober into this. He made a decision to take on this task, but Boober never really got a choice. "Unless... you really don't want to. You don't have to. I can't make you do this. It should be your own decision."
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The answer comes quickly and naturally, Boober's voice even recovering - a little - from the strained whisper it just was. It confuses him how sure he is of that, and that's reflected in a not-quite-scrunch of his snout.
"I do. It's scary, how much she's going to need us while she's here, but... I think I kind of like it, too? Oh, it sounds stupid-- Or selfish," he sighs, before recommitting his focus to preparing the baby formula. "I don't know. But I want to be part of this. Because, well, you're right about us taking care of each other, and-- That's what this is."
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(It makes him wonder, for just a moment, what ever became of that one kid The Bad Kids had ended up dealing with in high school -- what was his name again? Rudy or something?)
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Oh, although... When Boober turns to Riz and the baby with the prepared bottle, his mood seems a bit lighter.
"Hey, after we've talked to Sklonda... I'd like to talk to my dad about this, too. I figure, well, he knows what this can be like."
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And that is certainly not going to be Riz! He's going to find this baby's-- well, not parents, most likely, but grandparents, at least. Or aunts and uncles. Some sort of community she belongs with. He knows Mando started off with the same intentions, but well, he wasn't exactly much of a detective, was he?
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"Well, yeah, I wouldn't go to Dad for advice finding someone," Boober acknowledges, waving his hand as if to clear that idea away. "But he'll have advice on taking care of a baby without knowing about that beforehand."
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Riz has had the pleasure of meeting Grogu a few times now. He was a charming little menace. Definitely a honorary goblin, even if he was not one in actuality. But he's never quite adjusted to just how slow Grogu seems to grow. It's not the extensive lifespan itself -- Adaine and Fabian and maybe Fig have that too -- but he's never met anything that matures this slowly. Adaine might live centuries longer than him, but she had always grown and matured as fast as he had.
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"I think how old counts as being grown or not can change a lot. Junior, the older of the Gorgs' kids? He's over five-hundred, but he's not nearly an adult yet." He shrugs with a dry sigh. "And of course, it's not like fraggles usually keep track with numbers at all. I didn't really think about having an age like that until I wound up in the pokemon world."
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Most. Boober still sticks mostly to the once a year birthday thing, as far as Riz knows. At least when he is here, outside of The Rock. Riz thinks he probably likes the mundanity and predictability of it. Mundane and predictable are two qualities Boober enjoys a great deal, after all. And what is more predictable than a birthday that you can see coming for weeks in advance?
But right, they were performing A Task.
"Once you've mixed the formula with water, you need to test it and make sure it's not too hot." Riz very carefully shuffles the baby in his arms to free up one hand, motioning with it. "Drip a tiny bit on your wrist and it should feel lukewarm."
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Until Riz brings his focus back to the formula, and he's embarrassed to have gotten so distracted... Even if it's fair, generally speaking, to be distracted by frustrating nonsense! Still, you can't just do that when there's a baby around, which makes it very good thing this situation is temporary.
"Lukewarm?" Boober asks with a hint of a frown, though he does as he's instructed. It does seem like a safe temperature without being too cold, but... "Is there an exact temperature so we can be sure?"
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He hadn't thought to ask for an exact temperature. He's as detail oriented as Boober, but 'Luke-warm against your wrist' had been exact enough for him. After all, he always had his wrists on him --barring very tragic incidents, but at that point, he probably shouldn't be in charge of a baby!-- but he didn't always have a thermometer on him.
(Or, well, there is probably a thermometer rattling around somewhere in his good ol' briefcase, but good luck finding it among all the detritus that had collected in it over the years.)
"She said that babies aren't very good at regulating their temperatures, so you need to have their formula be as close to their body temp as possible. Especially for something as small as her."
Just look at her! Even a small bottle of formula would be a pretty significant amount of food to her. Riz can certainly believe that would affect her body temperature as much as him devouring one of Basrar's family sized sundaes XXL.
(Which he has done and winning that bet had been worth all the stomach pain later)
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"Alright, well, let me check again." He's nervous, but another test from a drop on his wrist leaves him as certain as he can be... So of course, he's still nervous, but she has to eat. That's just the truth.
That said, as he holds the bottle out towards Riz, he can't help feel reluctant to hand over the job of feeding her. That's just... That's what he does for people!
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Riz notes the slight reluctance, but chalks it up to anxiety over the temperature. "Hey, I'm sure it's fine. Trust me, she has a way of letting you know when she's not okay with something."
Boober hasn't really experienced it yet, but Riz has lived through one full-blown meltdown cry and frankly, it's incredibly that something so small can produce so much noise!
"Here, lemme show you how to feed her. This part is actually kind of fun. She makes noises like a piglet."
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But then, Boober can find a reason for being scared of most things if he thinks long enough, and his life sometimes feels like making decision after decision about if he wants to face down any given fear or not.
He doesn't want to be so tense, though. He doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, so as he leans right over Riz's shoulder, he notes, "You know, that's kind of what Wembley does when he's walking."
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When did babies do that anyway? One? Two? He'd have to ask his mom. Not that they'd be keeping her that long, of course! It'd just be background information. Perhaps a factoid to pass onto her family.
In any case, Riz makes himself reasonably comfortable on the couch, explaining his every action to Boober as he does so. "You should be holding her like this -- make sure to support her head cause her neck isn't strong yet. Not too high up, just enough that she is at a slight tilt."
The baby is too young to open her eyes yet, but whether it is the smell of the milk, or the way she is already starting to associate being held like this with getting fed, in any case she is starting to stir and make little, squeaking sounds.
"You should hold the bottle mostly flat -- like this, see." With a confidence that he doesn't fully feel --cause seriously, who left him in charge of a baby?-- Riz pops the end of the bottle into the baby's mouth, where she quickly begins to eat.
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Sure, it doesn't have to be them. And it won't always be! But that's not yet, and he just has to smile wide at her little squirms and her snuffling sounds. Even if it's just for now.
"Riz, have you ever--" Boober starts to ask, but cuts himself off as soon as he hears himself; realizes what he was about to ask. They should not be parents. Riz's job is too dangerous, and they're both still such... Scattered people when their thoughts get away with them. Boober himself, for that matter, doesn't even live here! He's just here a lot, sometimes, but he lives at Fraggle Rock.
And even if they ever wanted that be parents - which they haven't, and they don't, he's thinking too emotionally in this sentimental moment of a new experience - that's something they will plan for, to be as prepared as possible. It was what they were comfortable with. Even just bringing the idea of a child someday so spontaneously was a horrible idea.
So, instead of finishing that thought, Boober shook his head and leaned back against the couch with a sigh.
"Never mind, sorry." It's comforting, here, how bad Riz is at picking up on certain things socially. Boober hopes he won't have to explain anything away on the spot. "Ohh, it's been a long afternoon."
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