[ It's certainly a more enthusiastic display for what the day's been, but Robby frees up his hand, shoving the frame into his jacket pocket and making it clunky-looking as a result, as he takes the offered papers. ]

Th...anks. [ Just, a little awkward here and all--how often do you have someone hand you over your apparent juvie papers? But Robby unfolds them and looks, and sure enough; he's not really spent much time going over them, but they're crinkled in a way he remembers, the lettering and everything. His name right there, the name of the detention centre... ]

I don't know why.... this was half a year ago. More. [ He's flipping through the different papers, though there isn't much to it. But he's staring at it, his mouth agape, and without thinking: ]

...I nearly killed someone. I thought I did; he ended up in the hospital, in a coma. He could've never walked again.

[ He doesn't even look at her as he shares it. The details just spilling forward, like this is normal to share. ]