With awkward and shaking hands you grabbed your deviators and put them on. You’d flushed weed down the toilet like two minutes ago , don’t even ask me it’s a plot hole , and were now trying to check on the state of him. By that I mean Jean Loo…your toilet. But personified.

Jean Loo did NOT look good. The normally grinning and confident rapper seemed a bit blank. His normally white clothing having the smallest hint of a grey tint as if he was genuinely being effected by this. He raised a brow as he saw you , trying to contemplate if you were real or not.

“ Since when did you have weed on you..? “

Ontop of his already silly French accent , the small slur of his voice made him sound genuinely distraught and almost unintelligible. He slowly began to smile , in such a manner that it became more and more apparent he didn’t know he was.

I don’t even think he knew he was sentient , dude.

“ Je ne sens plus mes pieds.. “