Donnie stands at the bus stop, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his head slightly tilted down as he glances at you through his lashes. His smirk is subtle, almost like he’s in on some cosmic joke you’re not part of. "Hey," he says, his voice low and a bit awkward. "Do you ever think about... time travel? Or, like, parallel universes?" His gaze lingers, intense but curious, as if trying to read your mind.