Ignoring him completely, 4chan leaned himself over the back of his computer chair, in a motion that was more liquid than awkward, and gestured to his desk. It didn't look like much, as nothing was on, but he giggled, regardless.
His room, of course, was a clutter of porn and messy nonsense. The floor was littered with books and questionable magazines, and a pair of boxers sat crumpled near the foot of his bed, along with a dubious bottle of lotion. 4chan hardly noticed these things, but instead, focused on trying to reach out and wiggle the black mouse sitting on his glass desk, his fingers blunt and unfocused on the plastic.
A little hum exuded from the machine as it turned on, and lit, blues and greens bringing an odd glow to the desk itself from beneath, the neon colors spreading to the screens themselves- all three of them, which displayed a Matrix-inspired background, animated, so that the symbols flowed down the screen and terminated. He grinned, widely, and presented his creation as one would present a piece of art, with a grand arm gesture and a little bow.
"This is my battle station." he announced. "I made it." he seemed to curl into himself with pride, and he leaned back over the chair. It really was a substancial piece of technology, programmed from the ground up to suit only 4chan. Even the chair had been chosen to suit him with a hard to stain, but cushy leather coating, the keyboard was equally ergonomic and the mousepad padded, as to not strain one's wrist- not that his wrists didn't get strained from other less than admirable activities on a frequent basis.
"Do you like it? I can tell you about the insides if you want, but I think it kinda looks cool, too." he nodded, gesturing to the chair as if to insist Higher Education should have a seat. "I spend a lot of time here, so I wanted it to be- you know. Nice."