Lydia liberates a Twizzler, and situates herself so she's kind of half-leaning against Allison. "Trust me, stuff will happen here." There's a faint roll of Lydia's eyes. "But I get what you mean about feeling purposeful. You know me, the idea of like...working in a shop or something is just weird. I need to like, join a think tank or something. We should figure out something for you, too." She bites down on her Twizzler and eyes the screen. "God. Someone should take George Lucas' license to write dialogue away from him and smack him in the face with it. Just, like, no."