At the crack of the case, Bobby gaped, then he paled as he saw the look in Piotr's eyes. He was a bull without a leash, and Bobby suddenly felt queasy in his stomach. Taking a sip of the root beer, bobby turned away, his body turning to ice, just in case. The blue-white reflective exterior still allowed him enough flexibility to smile to himself.
Shifting back, Bobby turned and faced Pete, his chest puffed out. He stood once his soda was set down, fists clenching. When he felt the veins on his forearms begin to pop out, he finally broke into a wide grin. "I KNEW IT!" He shouted, the flat of his palms banging against the wall. "I knew it and you're a jerk for not telling me sooner. Fuck the game, Petey. Just screw it. We need to chat. You need to calm the eff down and take a seat." Oh gosh, it felt like Bobby was in the middle of some weird gameshow. "Meet the Jew" or some such. "She talked about you," he said softly, blue eyes turning to look at his best friend.