4chan started to giggle, and then curled up, bringing his legs into a more proper, comfortable, seated position. "Does that mean you like my shirt? Or is it just distracting?" he bounced in his seat, impatiently. Oh, that would be so much easier. That was how he'd distracted most of those little college students, copious amounts of sexual pictures and stories and pretty girls. That was what had those graduate students up until 3am, waiting for the next 'thread', the next wallpaper, the next joke to be told a million times over.
He really was sort of a giant child, short attention span, too active for his own good. "Don't make this so hard for me. Just chill, man."
He grinned, and fiddled with something in his pocket. "I've even got a little ganja, if you wanna try it." the baggie made a soft, crinkling noise in his pants, and he looked up at Peter, expectantly.