The cold can of Fanta feels quite good in his hand given the heat, and he cradles it in both as he settles comfortably back against the wall with it. The teenager starts fiddling with the opener tab, lifting it with a nail then sliding the pressure off to get a metallic click from it. He shouldn’t open it. Maybe in a few minutes, but he doesn’t have a straw, which would be so nice the top tab is so perfect for a straw. Maybe a silly straw. Those are fun even if they are less efficient.

Rambling or not, Benjiro can only relate to the notion Jim is trying to get across while standing at the wall with him. He frowns faintly, “It’d be confusing to be two people. Two...three?” He murmurs the uncertainty as those green hands are still fresh in his recall.

He nods solemnly, well aware his avoidance of using the network could be misinterpretted, “I look at it. Don’t want to be seen. Someone started it but they aren’t saying anything to anyone I know.” His focus on the matter of Numbers stutters as interest demands he ask something about what Jim said, “Engine? What kind of engine?” Benjiro doesn’t take notice of the cat until he realizes Jim is attempting to encourage her closer.

“Oh, pretty kitty. Heh.”