"Hey, kiddo," Jim says, walking into your room. He glances at the rainbow paraphernalia around your room, then at you, then at the ground before sitting next to you on your bed. "I've, uh, got a question for you."

"Are you..." He pauses, trying to figure out how to word it without it coming off as rude or weird. There's a solid minute of silence until Jim makes a floppy wrist gesture. "Y'know? Oh, I don't know. Friends with Dorothy? Is that something you kids still say?"