"I don't need to be healed. I got shoved into a fucking shelf. I'm fine." Bobby might have a little bruising on the back of his head, but his adrenaline wasn't letting him feel it yet. But Josh's words weren't falling on deaf ears finally, and Bobby relented to the car being placed in park. He sat in the driver's seat a moment longer before aggressively unclipping the seatbelt and letting it smack against the door. "Next time I have a great idea, tell me how stupid I am."
Bobby finally opened the door, getting out to apparently change seats. But instead he left the door open and wandered down by the trunk, leaning against it. The cold felt better to him out here, where the wind could blow it more than the staleness of the car. "...nothing's changed. He's still unbearable, even if he says he's trying. Which he's not. Trying would mean speaking to me more than once a year." Bobby rambled, assuming Josh had gotten out by now. He wasn't really listening or looking over his shoulder to check. "I went ice to scare him. Stupid of me. But it worked and then I felt bad and went fleshy so then he freaked."