[ Robbie shrugs – the question implies a deeper thought process than he’s using. ]

I guess? I’m not stalking you. Your face is jacked, so I figured you’d want help. If you don’t, cool, but you should still take the clean stuff.

[ He holds out the pot, which has cooled to room temperature, and the fabric. The latter is hooked over one finger on a bandaged hand. Robbie doesn’t want to contaminate it more than absolutely necessary. ]

Besides, until someone proves otherwise, we’re stuck together like magnetic trains. Choo-choo.

[ And Dixon’s not off on the right foot with some of the group. Not even the left foot. So maybe Robbie is making it a point to make sure the guy doesn’t get ignored. ]