"Oh, yeah, I know." Bobby laughed and his hand retreated back to his hair. "But I was wondering if I could, you know, like, talk to you. If you're not too busy... doing whatever it is you were doing?" He winced. Maybe he should have just waited for another time. But he was here now. His ice was stable on the lake bed below and Namor wasn't attacking him, at least. Could be a worse situation.
"It's just that I found this," plucking the comic from under his arm, he held it out for Namor to see, pointing at the artist's rendition of Namor's face. "It's a story about you and Atlantis."