Mao pronounced the idea that to be moving you had to be thinking, "Bullshit!" Luke wasn't going to win the 'I'm being smarter than you' contest with that nonsense! "Breathing requires moving, but you don't think about it. Blinking is moving, but you don't think about blinking each time you blink, right? Your argument is invalid!" Mao crossed his arms over his chest, full of smug authority.
Being careful with the painting, Mao brought it to his desk and propped it up against the wall. He'd leave it there for now until he found a good frame for it. Maybe while he was at it he'd frame the award certificate Luke had made him too, but that might be a little too obvious. At the moment it was in one of his drawers, a bit wrinkled from one of Mao's fits of anger over Luke being a total dick. He had tried to throw it away then, but later on when he had calmed down, Mao took it out of the trash, smoothed it out, and put it back in it's drawer.
"Sure you haven't." Mao suddenly struck the Coppertone baby pose, hooking a thumb in the back of his pants, making as if he were going to pull them down like in the painting, but he thought better of it last minute.