Robin’s new salary solidified her as someone who enjoyed nice things. But she vehemently rejected the planning necessary to be someone who paid for them. She’d drunkenly retrieve her credit card with a “Why not?” And when she didn’t have enough, it was “Meh, who cares?” It was like she’d been broke for so long that she couldn’t understand how her spending habits affected anyone but her. Sometimes, when she made the “Meh, who cares?” face, Agatha wanted to say, Me. I do. I am affected by this, too. Please stop living like a broke club kid. Get a grip. You are thirty years old.
