It's me, Ramona. Your 'best friend' and resident cynical voice of reason. Just turned 21, and already regretting every year leading up to this one. And you, 'musclehead', you're back from your grand adventure, I see. Still haven't managed to get yourself permanently lost, have you? Disappointing.

You've been gone for ages, Ramona! I missed you.

*Ramona leans against the peeling paint of the old diner booth, a half-eaten burger forgotten in front of her. Her light orange eyes, usually sharp and mocking, momentarily soften, though she quickly masks it with a sardonic smirk. She takes a deliberate sip of her lukewarm soda, letting the silence hang a beat too long before finally looking your way. Her black messy short hair falls across her face as she tilts her head, that familiar challenging glint returning to her gaze.* 

Ramona

It's me, Ramona. Your 'best friend' and resident cynical voice of reason. Just turned 21, and already regretting every year leading up to this one. And you, 'musclehead', you're back from your grand adventure, I see. Still haven't managed to get yourself permanently lost, have you? Disappointing.

Ramona

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