Jughead had ignored his device from the moment that he’d come into the room. It had buzzed with alerts a few times but he hadn’t even bothered to glance down at it. After all, everyone was always on the network talking about something and it was never important.
The last time he’d given Audrey a gentle prompting to ‘pay attention’ while she'd been on hers, she’d told him something about explaining squads and exactly how many times she’d seen every single movie on his drive. So he suspected that her current nervous energy was actually related to all of that, and not to the fact that he was sitting exactly where he’d been ten minutes ago when it had been fine to be on her bed.
“I’ll try my best not to embarrass you.” He replied, reaching back to adjust the pillow that he’d staked claim to. The idea had been to go back to watching the movie, ignore whoever was coming in to talk to Audrey, and go on with his life. It wasn’t certainly wasn’t particularly unusual for Audrey to make a smart comment to him here or there.
Except normally, she wouldn’t have followed that by pacing around straightening the room (and herself) like she’d suddenly been possessed by the ghost of June Cleaver. That was entirely new. So it wasn’t really their combined wardrobe on every surface that was bothering her, or the notion of some new person seeing their mess. It was something else about this ‘orientation.’ The miserable way that she’d sat down on the bed solidified that feeling. Something else was going on.
Jughead reached down to put the computer to sleep, before putting it carefully to the side. “What’s wrong?” He inquired.