"I can't believe I'm here on my day off," Fletcher said.
"You're the one who issued the challenge, I'm just not a scaredy cat so I took you up on it," Robin replied.
The previous day, in the break room, Fletcher was making a statement to the room that he was the most patient person in the building. Robin, however, insisted this was bullshit, and before long a bet of sorts was initiated. Fletcher told Robin that he bet he could wait longer than she could at seeing the resident sloth move, and Robin happily took him up on the offer. On one hand, Fletcher was caught off guard. He didn't think she'd accept something so ridiculous. On the other hand, he kind of respected her for it. She had guts. Now, set up with their lawnchairs and numerous snacks, they were on their respective day off that just happened to line up, thankfully, they were seated right in front of the singular Sloth habitat. The sloth, named Pokey, was hanging from a branch, and hadn't moved a single hair since they'd begun.
"Well," Harvey said, "I for one couldn't think of a better or more exciting way to waste a day."
"That's because you have no imagination," Fletcher replied.
"I was being sarcastic," Harvey said flatly.
"And I was being rude," Fletcher remarked, as Casper approached Robin's seat and handed her a soda, which she gladly thanked him for. Casper then pulled over a little stool and sat beside her.
"So," Casper said, "this is...riveting."
"What do you think is more fun, watching paint dry or watching Sloths fuck?" Robin asked, and Casper raised an eyebrow, then chuckled.
"I gotta go with the Sloths. At least something eventually happens," Casper said, "though that's the longest foreplay you're ever gonna see."
"Sloths are likely the only creatures who don't prematurely ejaculate," Fletcher said and Harvey groaned, putting a hand over his face.
"Guys, ew," he muttered.
Truth be told, Robin couldn't care less about winning some stupid bet about some Sloth, she just wanted to prove a man wrong. Wanted to prove her worth. Wanted to show her efforts had effect. And it all started because of a conversation she had with Kyle the previous night.
***
"I don't know what to tell you," Kyle said.
The two were sitting in Kyle's car on the way home from dinner. Kyle had had a fairly successful audition, after getting another part in a local commercial. Robin, understandably, was frustrated. She wasn't even speaking while Kyle drove. Kyle sighed and pulled up to a red light.
"You need to either make a choice that it's too crushing for you and give up, or believe that you have the skill and keep trying," he said.
"The problem isn't my belief in my abilities, thank you very much," Robin said sternly, finally looking his direction, "the problem is other peoples beliefs in my abilities."
"I suppose that's true, you are rather full of yourself," Kyle replied, making Robin smirk as she hit him playfully in the arm. She glanced back out the passenger side window and sighed. All she wanted to do was act. She knew she was good at it. She knew she was great at it, in fact. But talent rarely was enough, she'd learned. Talent got you far, certainly, but luck played such a big part in success, and it's hard to be the most talented when there's so many other talented people surrounding you that you have to compete with. She blew her bangs from her face and shook her head.
"Maybe I should give up," she mumbled, "maybe everyone was right. I just so badly wanted to prove them all wrong, but maybe everyone was right after all. Maybe I'm either not good enough, or it's just too difficult. Maybe it isn't even worth it. I mean, who's to say that success guarantees fulfillment? Not even happiness, but just general career fulfillment? My worst fear is finally getting what I want and then hating it."
"I think every actor feels that way at one point or another," Kyle said as the light changed to green and they continued on their way; he added, scratching his nose, "but, ya know, you never know until the moment comes, right? So who's to say it would go that way? Perhaps you're one of those very rare people who would just be so grateful to do what you want to do for a living that you'd love every second of it."
Robin sighed and shrugged.
"...maybe," she muttered, "or maybe I'm just delusional."
***
"Does blinking count?" Casper asked, and Fletcher shook his head.
"Nah, it has to be real movement. He has to go from one place to another," Fletcher said, sipping on the straw in his drink, "otherwise breathing would count."
Robin slumped down in her chair, leaning back, putting her feet up on the lid of the cooler in front of them. Suddenly, Sophie knelt down beside her chair and Robin, surprised but pleased to see her, smiled. Sophie was biting into a sandwich and Robin cocked her head to look at it.
"What you got there?" Robin asked.
"Swiss cheese, spicy mustard and thinly sliced beef," Sophie said, chewing, mouth half full. Robin chuckled. She liked how Sophie didn't care how she came across. It was sort of inspiring; Sophie continued, "I think swiss cheese is my favorite cheese. I know a lot of people don't like it, because it has a weird flavor and an odd texture, but I think that's what makes it good to me. What are you guys doing here anyway?"
"We're watching Pokey," Fletcher said.
"Why?" Sophie asked.
"Because Fletcher talks out his ass," Robin replied, making everyone laugh, Fletcher included.
Truth be told, Robin would prefer to be anywhere else on her day off. She could have scheduled auditions or something. But instead, she was opting to be at work, not working, or getting paid, and watching a sloth just because a guy had said he was more patient than her. But Robin was sick of being told she couldn't do something better than a man, and she was determined to prove one wrong. Robin couldn't help but shake the voice of her uncle Jake, who had once told her, when she was about 14 and deciding to want to act for a living, that "girls don't get acting jobs because they're skilled, they get them because they're pretty", and that sort of generalized, and incorrect, statement not only was detrimental to her ability to see her skill, but also made an already insecure teenage girl all the more insecure about her appearance.
Sophie finished her sandwich and then pulled a big unwrapped cookie from her coat pocket, opening it and breaking it in half, giving the other half to Robin, who smiled and graciously accepted. Together, the two women sat side by side, eating this giant sugar cookie and watching Pokey continue to not do a damn thing.
"Do you think," Sophie asked, "they deliberately know we're waiting for them to do something and that's why they're so slow? Or are animals not capable of that level of planned deception?"
"I don't know," Harvey said, "I had a friend who had a bird growing up, and anytime his parents were around, the bird swore up a storm and they were convinced it was his fault. I'm pretty sure they're capable of planned deception."
"Yeah but birds are notoriously devious little fuckers," Casper remarked, "the outlier doesn't define the genus."
"Tell that to natural selection," Harvey replied.
Robin chuckled as she listened to this conversation, her eyes slowly drifting back to Sophie. Sophie had finished her cookie and was now sitting there, braiding her own hair, seemingly entirely disinterested and disengaged from the conversation that surrounded her. In a way, Robin admired that. She managed to block out all unnecessary noise, and focus on something else more important to her. That was a trait she wish she had. Robin had far too many negative thoughts, and wished she could, instead of giving them recognition, turn her attention inwards to the things she knew she liked about herself. But, she supposed, when you're a girl who spends the majority of your life being told by others what you can and can't accomplish, you start to internalize those thoughts and they become your inner monologue.
She just wished she could break through the noise to better silence.
***
"It isn't that you're not talented," Michael Ansel said, "it's that...it's that there's a million girls just as talented as you. That's the thing to consider. Don't take rejection as a denial of your skill. Instead, recognize that there's so many women trying to make it as actresses that skill alone isn't going to win you the part. You could be the most skilled actress in the world and still lose out to someone else, all because of preferences."
Michael Ansel had been Robin's acting coach for many years, and after the conversation with Kyle, Robin had called him up that night after Kyle had fallen asleep. Lying on the couch in the living room, phone to her ear, Robin couldn't help but sigh dejectedly as she chewed on her hair absentmindedly.
"...but...that fuckin' sucks," she said, making Michael laugh.
"Yeah, yeah it does, I'll be the first to admit that. But it's the fact of the matter, kiddo. Sorry to tell you that this is the way things are and have always been. But listen, Robin, don't let that discourage you, okay? I mean, I know it's discouraging, but still. Don't let that sort of thing deter you from making the best of what you're capable of. Maybe try other routes. Try more theater, try voice acting, the amount of roles available in different mediums and niches are astounding. Don't pigeonhole yourself to one thing like film, okay? Film isn't the end all be all that Hollywood has tried to convince us it is. There's other respectable forms out there that are worthy of your attention, not to mention your skill."
Robin smiled. Michael had always been so supportive of her, and she was grateful for it. He'd been almost like a second father figure, which, frankly, she needed. Wasn't liker her own had been all that supportive of her dreams. He wasn't openly dismissive by any means, but Robin could tell her had hoped she'd pick a "normal" job and just give up on the arts, which only angered her further, the hypocrisy, as a man who made his living as an art historian. Once again the message came through loud and clear, things of a creative nature were primarily better serviced by men, not women.
"I just need one good role, you know, that's what they always say," Robin said as she sat upright, hair still in her mouth, "they always say it's just one good role that can create an entire career. That's all I need."
"Sure, but the chances of you getting it, and then having it recognized, are also slim. You could be slotted into a role literally designed for you and your abilities, but if it gets nobody talking, if nobody sees it, then what's really the point?" Michael asked, "Robin, listen, you're good, okay, you're one of the best students I've ever had. You can achieve this, I believe in you, genuinely, I'm not just saying that. I can see your talents. But you gotta be patient. I know, I know, you've been at this a while now, but think of how many people had been working until they finally got their break."
"Michael, I can't be 45 and then get my chance, I have to pay my bills," Robin said, "this...this isn't feasible anymore."
"Well you have a job, right?" Michael asked, and Robin sighed.
"Yeah, yes, I do, and I actually don't hate it, but still," Robin said, flopping onto her back in the opposite direction now, groaning, "...okay, I'll try to hang in there. Thanks for talking to me."
"Robin, don't get worn down, alright? Something will happen, I know it will, I know a star when I see one," Michael said warmly, and Robin smiled. She thanked him again, then hung up. As she laid on her back on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan overhead, chewing on her thumbnail, she couldn't help but feel like this whole thing was a dead end. A lost cause. A hopeless endeavor, never to bare fruit. What was she really adding to the world anyway, by being another actress in an already overcrowded space? If she were a writer, perhaps, then maybe, or even a director, willing to take chances on gusty projects that said brave things, trying to change the hearts and minds of others for the better, but she wasn't either of those things. She was just an actress. Another woman in a sea of overly pretty faces, destined for the bargain bin at her local superstore.
Robin never went to bed. Instead she slept on the couch that night, because she wound up crying so hard she didn't want to wake Kyle up. How funny, she thought, even at her lowest her concern was for others comfort, not for others to comfort her. Guess that's also part of being a woman.
***
"I guess I relate to Pokey because it feels like I too am moving at a snails pace," Robin said meekly, "like...no matter how hard I work or how long I try, I just...I can't seem to shake the inevitability of my eventual failure. I can't get anywhere. I'm stuck."
Sophie nodded, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.
"I know what you mean, I feel stuck too," she said, "never going fast enough not just for myself but for anyone else who expects things of me. I'm always told to not be ashamed at how fast I'm going, because everyone goes at their own pace and there's no real timetable for any kind of success or improvement, but still. It bothers me."
Robin nodded in agreement. She lifted her drink to her lips and took a long sip, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
"But Pokey doesn't care," Sophie said, continuing, "so really why should I judge myself so harshly, or worry about those who do?"
"Well Pokey doesn't have societal pressure placed upon him," Robin replied, "it's a little different."
"You think he doesn't have societal pressure?" Sophie asked, and Robin turned her head to look at her; Sophie added, "people come to the zoo to see animals do things. How many times have you seen disgruntled patrons get mad at an animal for just lounging, for not being entertaining? We think they exist primarily for our enjoyment, like they're in the circus or something. To say Pokey doesn't have societal pressure, I mean...sure, he doesn't have bills to pay, a family to keep together, a career he's desperately trying to succeed in, but these people...they come here and they watch him and despite knowing full well how sloths are, they still get angry when he does what sloths do. We took societal pressure and put into animals."
Robin's eyes widened. She hadn't really considered this before. She looked back from Sophie towards Pokey's habitat and realized she was completely accurate in her assessment. Humans had taken the very same things they wished they didn't have on them and placed it on animals, because we did see everything as something for our amusement. Robin stood up and approached the habitat, putting her hand on the thick plexiglass, looking up at Pokey. Before she knew it, Sophie was standing beside her again.
"And here we are," she continued, "watching him again, waiting for him to do something, placing an entire bet around his ability to just move. Doesn't seem fair to me. Sure he doesn't really know that people wait on him, get mad when he doesn't do what they expect, but that doesn't make it okay. He's just a sloth."
"...you're right," Robin whispered, before turning to the others, and announcing, "I'm going home. This is stupid."
Fletcher leapt from his chair in victory, pumping his fist in the air.
"I told you I was more patient!" he shouted, high fiving the others.
"No, you're not," Robin said, "you're stubborn. There's a difference. One is a virtue, the other is a rather unpleasant characteristic."
As she grabbed her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and passed by Fletcher, she gently reached out and patted him on the shoulder, smiling.
"But don't worry," she said, "so am I. You're in good company."
And with that, she and Sophie headed for the parking lot. Robin realized that night that she wouldn't want that pressure on her, so why should she ever put it on anyone or anything else? She and Sophie went out to eat, and afterwards Robin drove Sophie home - seeing as Sophie didn't drive and usually took the bus or a taxi - and the whole time, all Robin could think about was how this girl had been so right about how, even if Pokey wasn't achieving what others expected him to, that didn't mean he wasn't worth respecting. And it didn't mean that when he did, it wouldn't be worth celebrating. He didn't move that night, but he might move tomorrow.
And tomorrow was another hopeful day. That's all that Robin had, anymore, but it was enough.
"You're the one who issued the challenge, I'm just not a scaredy cat so I took you up on it," Robin replied.
The previous day, in the break room, Fletcher was making a statement to the room that he was the most patient person in the building. Robin, however, insisted this was bullshit, and before long a bet of sorts was initiated. Fletcher told Robin that he bet he could wait longer than she could at seeing the resident sloth move, and Robin happily took him up on the offer. On one hand, Fletcher was caught off guard. He didn't think she'd accept something so ridiculous. On the other hand, he kind of respected her for it. She had guts. Now, set up with their lawnchairs and numerous snacks, they were on their respective day off that just happened to line up, thankfully, they were seated right in front of the singular Sloth habitat. The sloth, named Pokey, was hanging from a branch, and hadn't moved a single hair since they'd begun.
"Well," Harvey said, "I for one couldn't think of a better or more exciting way to waste a day."
"That's because you have no imagination," Fletcher replied.
"I was being sarcastic," Harvey said flatly.
"And I was being rude," Fletcher remarked, as Casper approached Robin's seat and handed her a soda, which she gladly thanked him for. Casper then pulled over a little stool and sat beside her.
"So," Casper said, "this is...riveting."
"What do you think is more fun, watching paint dry or watching Sloths fuck?" Robin asked, and Casper raised an eyebrow, then chuckled.
"I gotta go with the Sloths. At least something eventually happens," Casper said, "though that's the longest foreplay you're ever gonna see."
"Sloths are likely the only creatures who don't prematurely ejaculate," Fletcher said and Harvey groaned, putting a hand over his face.
"Guys, ew," he muttered.
Truth be told, Robin couldn't care less about winning some stupid bet about some Sloth, she just wanted to prove a man wrong. Wanted to prove her worth. Wanted to show her efforts had effect. And it all started because of a conversation she had with Kyle the previous night.
***
"I don't know what to tell you," Kyle said.
The two were sitting in Kyle's car on the way home from dinner. Kyle had had a fairly successful audition, after getting another part in a local commercial. Robin, understandably, was frustrated. She wasn't even speaking while Kyle drove. Kyle sighed and pulled up to a red light.
"You need to either make a choice that it's too crushing for you and give up, or believe that you have the skill and keep trying," he said.
"The problem isn't my belief in my abilities, thank you very much," Robin said sternly, finally looking his direction, "the problem is other peoples beliefs in my abilities."
"I suppose that's true, you are rather full of yourself," Kyle replied, making Robin smirk as she hit him playfully in the arm. She glanced back out the passenger side window and sighed. All she wanted to do was act. She knew she was good at it. She knew she was great at it, in fact. But talent rarely was enough, she'd learned. Talent got you far, certainly, but luck played such a big part in success, and it's hard to be the most talented when there's so many other talented people surrounding you that you have to compete with. She blew her bangs from her face and shook her head.
"Maybe I should give up," she mumbled, "maybe everyone was right. I just so badly wanted to prove them all wrong, but maybe everyone was right after all. Maybe I'm either not good enough, or it's just too difficult. Maybe it isn't even worth it. I mean, who's to say that success guarantees fulfillment? Not even happiness, but just general career fulfillment? My worst fear is finally getting what I want and then hating it."
"I think every actor feels that way at one point or another," Kyle said as the light changed to green and they continued on their way; he added, scratching his nose, "but, ya know, you never know until the moment comes, right? So who's to say it would go that way? Perhaps you're one of those very rare people who would just be so grateful to do what you want to do for a living that you'd love every second of it."
Robin sighed and shrugged.
"...maybe," she muttered, "or maybe I'm just delusional."
***
"Does blinking count?" Casper asked, and Fletcher shook his head.
"Nah, it has to be real movement. He has to go from one place to another," Fletcher said, sipping on the straw in his drink, "otherwise breathing would count."
Robin slumped down in her chair, leaning back, putting her feet up on the lid of the cooler in front of them. Suddenly, Sophie knelt down beside her chair and Robin, surprised but pleased to see her, smiled. Sophie was biting into a sandwich and Robin cocked her head to look at it.
"What you got there?" Robin asked.
"Swiss cheese, spicy mustard and thinly sliced beef," Sophie said, chewing, mouth half full. Robin chuckled. She liked how Sophie didn't care how she came across. It was sort of inspiring; Sophie continued, "I think swiss cheese is my favorite cheese. I know a lot of people don't like it, because it has a weird flavor and an odd texture, but I think that's what makes it good to me. What are you guys doing here anyway?"
"We're watching Pokey," Fletcher said.
"Why?" Sophie asked.
"Because Fletcher talks out his ass," Robin replied, making everyone laugh, Fletcher included.
Truth be told, Robin would prefer to be anywhere else on her day off. She could have scheduled auditions or something. But instead, she was opting to be at work, not working, or getting paid, and watching a sloth just because a guy had said he was more patient than her. But Robin was sick of being told she couldn't do something better than a man, and she was determined to prove one wrong. Robin couldn't help but shake the voice of her uncle Jake, who had once told her, when she was about 14 and deciding to want to act for a living, that "girls don't get acting jobs because they're skilled, they get them because they're pretty", and that sort of generalized, and incorrect, statement not only was detrimental to her ability to see her skill, but also made an already insecure teenage girl all the more insecure about her appearance.
Sophie finished her sandwich and then pulled a big unwrapped cookie from her coat pocket, opening it and breaking it in half, giving the other half to Robin, who smiled and graciously accepted. Together, the two women sat side by side, eating this giant sugar cookie and watching Pokey continue to not do a damn thing.
"Do you think," Sophie asked, "they deliberately know we're waiting for them to do something and that's why they're so slow? Or are animals not capable of that level of planned deception?"
"I don't know," Harvey said, "I had a friend who had a bird growing up, and anytime his parents were around, the bird swore up a storm and they were convinced it was his fault. I'm pretty sure they're capable of planned deception."
"Yeah but birds are notoriously devious little fuckers," Casper remarked, "the outlier doesn't define the genus."
"Tell that to natural selection," Harvey replied.
Robin chuckled as she listened to this conversation, her eyes slowly drifting back to Sophie. Sophie had finished her cookie and was now sitting there, braiding her own hair, seemingly entirely disinterested and disengaged from the conversation that surrounded her. In a way, Robin admired that. She managed to block out all unnecessary noise, and focus on something else more important to her. That was a trait she wish she had. Robin had far too many negative thoughts, and wished she could, instead of giving them recognition, turn her attention inwards to the things she knew she liked about herself. But, she supposed, when you're a girl who spends the majority of your life being told by others what you can and can't accomplish, you start to internalize those thoughts and they become your inner monologue.
She just wished she could break through the noise to better silence.
***
"It isn't that you're not talented," Michael Ansel said, "it's that...it's that there's a million girls just as talented as you. That's the thing to consider. Don't take rejection as a denial of your skill. Instead, recognize that there's so many women trying to make it as actresses that skill alone isn't going to win you the part. You could be the most skilled actress in the world and still lose out to someone else, all because of preferences."
Michael Ansel had been Robin's acting coach for many years, and after the conversation with Kyle, Robin had called him up that night after Kyle had fallen asleep. Lying on the couch in the living room, phone to her ear, Robin couldn't help but sigh dejectedly as she chewed on her hair absentmindedly.
"...but...that fuckin' sucks," she said, making Michael laugh.
"Yeah, yeah it does, I'll be the first to admit that. But it's the fact of the matter, kiddo. Sorry to tell you that this is the way things are and have always been. But listen, Robin, don't let that discourage you, okay? I mean, I know it's discouraging, but still. Don't let that sort of thing deter you from making the best of what you're capable of. Maybe try other routes. Try more theater, try voice acting, the amount of roles available in different mediums and niches are astounding. Don't pigeonhole yourself to one thing like film, okay? Film isn't the end all be all that Hollywood has tried to convince us it is. There's other respectable forms out there that are worthy of your attention, not to mention your skill."
Robin smiled. Michael had always been so supportive of her, and she was grateful for it. He'd been almost like a second father figure, which, frankly, she needed. Wasn't liker her own had been all that supportive of her dreams. He wasn't openly dismissive by any means, but Robin could tell her had hoped she'd pick a "normal" job and just give up on the arts, which only angered her further, the hypocrisy, as a man who made his living as an art historian. Once again the message came through loud and clear, things of a creative nature were primarily better serviced by men, not women.
"I just need one good role, you know, that's what they always say," Robin said as she sat upright, hair still in her mouth, "they always say it's just one good role that can create an entire career. That's all I need."
"Sure, but the chances of you getting it, and then having it recognized, are also slim. You could be slotted into a role literally designed for you and your abilities, but if it gets nobody talking, if nobody sees it, then what's really the point?" Michael asked, "Robin, listen, you're good, okay, you're one of the best students I've ever had. You can achieve this, I believe in you, genuinely, I'm not just saying that. I can see your talents. But you gotta be patient. I know, I know, you've been at this a while now, but think of how many people had been working until they finally got their break."
"Michael, I can't be 45 and then get my chance, I have to pay my bills," Robin said, "this...this isn't feasible anymore."
"Well you have a job, right?" Michael asked, and Robin sighed.
"Yeah, yes, I do, and I actually don't hate it, but still," Robin said, flopping onto her back in the opposite direction now, groaning, "...okay, I'll try to hang in there. Thanks for talking to me."
"Robin, don't get worn down, alright? Something will happen, I know it will, I know a star when I see one," Michael said warmly, and Robin smiled. She thanked him again, then hung up. As she laid on her back on the couch, staring at the ceiling fan overhead, chewing on her thumbnail, she couldn't help but feel like this whole thing was a dead end. A lost cause. A hopeless endeavor, never to bare fruit. What was she really adding to the world anyway, by being another actress in an already overcrowded space? If she were a writer, perhaps, then maybe, or even a director, willing to take chances on gusty projects that said brave things, trying to change the hearts and minds of others for the better, but she wasn't either of those things. She was just an actress. Another woman in a sea of overly pretty faces, destined for the bargain bin at her local superstore.
Robin never went to bed. Instead she slept on the couch that night, because she wound up crying so hard she didn't want to wake Kyle up. How funny, she thought, even at her lowest her concern was for others comfort, not for others to comfort her. Guess that's also part of being a woman.
***
"I guess I relate to Pokey because it feels like I too am moving at a snails pace," Robin said meekly, "like...no matter how hard I work or how long I try, I just...I can't seem to shake the inevitability of my eventual failure. I can't get anywhere. I'm stuck."
Sophie nodded, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.
"I know what you mean, I feel stuck too," she said, "never going fast enough not just for myself but for anyone else who expects things of me. I'm always told to not be ashamed at how fast I'm going, because everyone goes at their own pace and there's no real timetable for any kind of success or improvement, but still. It bothers me."
Robin nodded in agreement. She lifted her drink to her lips and took a long sip, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
"But Pokey doesn't care," Sophie said, continuing, "so really why should I judge myself so harshly, or worry about those who do?"
"Well Pokey doesn't have societal pressure placed upon him," Robin replied, "it's a little different."
"You think he doesn't have societal pressure?" Sophie asked, and Robin turned her head to look at her; Sophie added, "people come to the zoo to see animals do things. How many times have you seen disgruntled patrons get mad at an animal for just lounging, for not being entertaining? We think they exist primarily for our enjoyment, like they're in the circus or something. To say Pokey doesn't have societal pressure, I mean...sure, he doesn't have bills to pay, a family to keep together, a career he's desperately trying to succeed in, but these people...they come here and they watch him and despite knowing full well how sloths are, they still get angry when he does what sloths do. We took societal pressure and put into animals."
Robin's eyes widened. She hadn't really considered this before. She looked back from Sophie towards Pokey's habitat and realized she was completely accurate in her assessment. Humans had taken the very same things they wished they didn't have on them and placed it on animals, because we did see everything as something for our amusement. Robin stood up and approached the habitat, putting her hand on the thick plexiglass, looking up at Pokey. Before she knew it, Sophie was standing beside her again.
"And here we are," she continued, "watching him again, waiting for him to do something, placing an entire bet around his ability to just move. Doesn't seem fair to me. Sure he doesn't really know that people wait on him, get mad when he doesn't do what they expect, but that doesn't make it okay. He's just a sloth."
"...you're right," Robin whispered, before turning to the others, and announcing, "I'm going home. This is stupid."
Fletcher leapt from his chair in victory, pumping his fist in the air.
"I told you I was more patient!" he shouted, high fiving the others.
"No, you're not," Robin said, "you're stubborn. There's a difference. One is a virtue, the other is a rather unpleasant characteristic."
As she grabbed her things, slung her bag over her shoulder, and passed by Fletcher, she gently reached out and patted him on the shoulder, smiling.
"But don't worry," she said, "so am I. You're in good company."
And with that, she and Sophie headed for the parking lot. Robin realized that night that she wouldn't want that pressure on her, so why should she ever put it on anyone or anything else? She and Sophie went out to eat, and afterwards Robin drove Sophie home - seeing as Sophie didn't drive and usually took the bus or a taxi - and the whole time, all Robin could think about was how this girl had been so right about how, even if Pokey wasn't achieving what others expected him to, that didn't mean he wasn't worth respecting. And it didn't mean that when he did, it wouldn't be worth celebrating. He didn't move that night, but he might move tomorrow.
And tomorrow was another hopeful day. That's all that Robin had, anymore, but it was enough.