"Are you guys related?" -Me as I approach the door at work, where I've previously left promptly at one, in my first failed attempt to exercise personal boundaries when it comes to my job.
"Didn't you leave?" -mark
(scared/surprised/confused scowl from Rob)
"Don't you raise chickens as a hobby?" -me
"No. My wife does. I build chicken coops." -mark
"Ah. I see. Much more manly." -me
(I slip on a wet patch as we all ascend the stairs)
"Are you alright?" -mark
(turning with a sly grin) ".....would you have saved me?"
"Not likely. My response times aren't that fast." -mark
(silence as rob trudges up stairs behind us)
twenty minutes later when i am leaving again after testing my new tutorial-ized knowledge of how to actually use the adobe creative cloud)
(approaching bus station plexiglass terminal where rob and peter are smoking, rob's second cigarette in forty minutes)
"....that causes cancer, you know." -me
"Yeah. Good. It couldn't find me fast enough." -rob says morosely as he sucks on his American Spirit
"Right. The fate reserved for all white Americans living in the twenty first century. Cancer." -me, with a cheery grin
"With my luck I'll get toenail cancer." -rob
(stunned silence as I visualize his toenails bubbling up into yellow flaking pustules and rotting off his feet)
"Thanks for the visual." -me, for lack of anything better to say.