"Hm. He'll be a blue-haired, antisocial astronaut." I cocked my head to the side, then added as an afterthought, "and he'll play the violin."

Annie threw her head back and laughed, "don't blame me if you don't get laid until you're sixty-three and all hopes of some astronaut taking you to live in a magical sandcastle in the sky have deserted you." She said, shaking her head.

I whipped my head around to give her a menacing glare. "He'll also be asexual," I spat, scathingly.

I stalked off, leaving my friend behind, howling with laughter.