"Are you nuts?" Robben pushed the door open and walked into the room like he owned the place. "You should probably see a doctor. A Priest would work, too."
"No, what are you doing here?" Ribery retorted.
"I'm bored out of my mind," Robben said, plopping down onto the sofa. "To be precise, it's been a while since I've drawn a comic, and my hands are itching to get back to it."
"Are you nuts?" Ribery found Robben completely unreasonable.
"We barely managed to escape that prison of waking up early, going to bed late, working year-round without a single day off, and having someone breathing down our necks every week! And now you're telling me your hands are itching to lock yourself back in? How long have we even been enjoying the free world?!"
Robben completely ignored Ribery's complaints. Instead, his attention was drawn to a pile of papers on the table in front of him, covered in messy, chaotic lines.
"What's this?"
