There I was, all asnooze on the sofa with Irving, when Steve decides that we are prime photographic material.

Steve is, as you can see, completely insane.

The headband had been covering my eyes scant seconds before. The bitchface is from having a doofus point a flashy camera at me while I’m trying to snooze (and also because my right arm was completely dead at this point from Irving’s weight).

It’s only in photographs that I realize how pale I am. I look like a vampire.