[ No- wait, a train goes zooming past his room and he squirms, and then another-- Will stop- ]

Y- st-stop making me do math, tha's'not fair! [ Actually flailing his hands to try and smack the non-existent distractions out of his mental space, his house isn't a fucking train yard!

He's also absolutely whining. Child. ] Can you actually hit me through this thing? Do I gotta watch out for a mental flyswatter?