Jason's jaw clenches several times. Whether this is frustration or just a nervous tic (and he does have quite a few of those) is up for dispute.

"Look," he mutters, pointing one pasty-pale finger down at the court, where the big orange ball is being bounced around in practiced dribbles.

"And it's the sun. And this is solstice," Jason tacks on, because it has just occurred to him that Metody might not actually know it's solstice.

He tries really hard to keep up their quasi-friendship, forgiving Metody such laziness.