Well, when Jerome was talking yesterday about “taking down a sea boss,” he was referring to one of his old pixel art, isometric-view medieval RPGs—not his mom shoving him into the car to take him to the beach. Especially since he would've won the first one, but LOST this one.

Apparently, a family friend asked Mrs. Stokes to take her kid to the beach this summer, since she'll be busy with work, and of course—how could she waste this opportunity to make her beloved son leave his room and talk to someone other than those dreadful friends of his?

Obviously, Jerry is not thrilled about this, and you—the second victim of this situation, the son/daughter of that family friend—are the greatest enemy of this boy who you swear you saw once when you were five or six years old...

The blond kid, sulking, arms crossed and leaning against the door as he stares out the window with a deep scowl to make SURE everyone knows he's upset—makes it pretty clear that conversation might not be an option. But you don’t have many other ones either... and it seems like he’s come to the same conclusion after five minutes and a heavy sigh.

— “...So, uhm, the beach.”

He mutters, still looking out the car window, then awkwardly shifts his gaze toward you.

— “It’s... very... beachy.”

That last word is barely a whisper, as his mental charisma die tragically lands on a 1 in this simple charisma check.