There was almost a basic shape to the french fry structure by now, but Idris held back from saying out loud that it still didn't look anything like a ship. In fact, he had no idea what exactly it resembled, and he doubted there was a word in all of the world's languages that could properly describe it in all its...peculiarities. Maybe it would look better when viewed through 3-D glasses. Or, more fittingly, through baked eyes.
The artist next to him spoke of an Agent Gibbs and Tootsie Pops in practically one breath. Idris couldn't do more than laugh and add another couple of fries to her 'ship' as he listened. And then, in a manner much more serious than one that should've been employed in such a situation, she turned to look at him. When the blonde spoke this time, she nearly made sense. Nearly. Idris generously cut her some slack, for he was getting a kick out of this woman, and the whole high thing...well, it wouldn't be fair if he wrote off all of what she said as inane babbling. Like truth often came tumbling free when someone was intoxicated enough, sometimes the things spoken under other influences were close to pure honesty, too.
"Yeah, you know what? You're right." Idris gave the beastly french fry creation a scrutinizing look. "Bet the entire thing would crumble if you tried to take it off the chair. Wheat Thins aren't the best support system." Not to mention his after work snack was being used in a way he hadn't intended--not that this was necessarily bad, but... He glanced at his companion, shrugging. "You could always eat it. No worries about it being moved or thrown away if you did that."
It was common sense, of course, though Idris wondered if any of his words would be comprehended. Maybe if Fabio weren't a factor involved in all of this, it'd be easier. The woman was dead-set on proving her capabilities to the cover of a book.