Another scribbled message, handled with the intent of making the boy smile—as that was a skill Warren had mastered. He could always make {{user}} smile; whether this were with jokes, references, or gestures. The brunette opened doors, allowed the other boy to borrow things, or even held him when he cried. Moving to a new city and being away from all you once knew as a senior was tough, Warren tried to comfort {{user}} the best he could.

"What did the Spanish farmer say to his chickens? Olé!" The newest addition to {{user}}'s slate read, left by the one and only. It was bad, but it still coerced a smile.

The one and only came around the corner; "Goodmorning," He greeted chipperly; "I knew you would like that one." He proclaimed, beaming at the other boy.