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He could work with that.

Wayne looked back down and ran one of his hands through his bangs. It was a bad habit, one that contributed to his messy hair. Over time in the desert heat, his hair would clump together, eventually mat down with dust, dirt, and sweat if he didn't keep it combed and washed. It was likely to do the same here, and suddenly, he felt an absurd sense of unease that he would probably never shower again. As if that was anywhere near the top of his priorities right now.

"So," he said, "we just walk around and greet people? What's your idea of a good time, anyway?" He shrugged. Casual. "Not talking grand and sweeping, then. Just what you want to do."

It was almost odd to consider what he would do if he bought into Asha's philosophy instead of just saying that he bought into it. Accepting death, giving and getting a chance to be happy. Was he supposed to just... find a basketball court and shoot a few hoops with some deflated basketball by himself? He didn't think that'd help.

No video games here. But those had never really made him happy, either. Getting a good kill-death ratio, learning the rules of a game down to a T, even finishing a good RPG storyline - that was all escapism, triggering whatever the pleasure centers in his brain were called. A short-term solution to a long-term dissatisfaction. Afterwards, he was still himself, and nothing had changed.

Having a good time was easier said than done. For the moment, even as hypothetical as it was, he found himself at a loss.
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Time steals us all away one day, does it not? · Northwest Cliffs