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Laurels
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Cause what you see isn't always the truth
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Oh great. She's a pleb.

Noah continued to smirk as Irene stumbled over her answer. Not only did she not know who Woody Allen was, but she lost the ability to form sentences and explain her point. Noah knew he'd have to be careful around Irene. This girl had, in the past, given him lip for the characters he played and the implications that came from them. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to intentionally offend anyone (without at least trying to be funny in the process), and even he knew to take a step back and assess whether or not the jokes he made could be taken the wrong way.

Even with that, he still didn't want a drink thrown in his face or for Irene to heckle him, so he wanted to at least slip in some shade without casting too much of a shadow.

Luckily, Irene was making it easy for him to have time to process what to say to her. The potato skin didn't seem to go down easily, and now she was calling for water. Noah stayed quiet, waiting for Irene to give him a proper response that wouldn't result in bacon bits being spat in his face.

"Oh, something a little more easily consumable than Woody Allen and those potato skins. Don't worry, I've assessed the audience, and I think I've got something they would like."

Before Noah could explain more, a roar of applause had come over the audience. The person on stage walked off and the host of the event stepped up. He called out for Noah to come onto the stage and perform. Noah let out a small cheer.

"Well, at least now I'll find out if they like it," he said to Irene. "Don't touch my skins."

Noah hopped out of his seat and made his way to the stage. He had all his jokes planned and memorized, so as long as he didn't blank, he'd be fine. But still, part of him was thinking of throwing in a bit of improv now that he had some words with Irene. He'd figure that out once he got to the stage.
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