Aside from smiling, this was about his only expression.
Robby was always Robby. I don’t think anyone ever called him Robert as long as I knew him. He was someone that joined the fencing club after I did but seemed like he’d always been there. He fenced right handed until he spontaneously injured his hand, after which he switched to left-handed fencing. His major was in English and he did stuff in music as well. Marching band and such. I never actually saw him play his instrument because I attended neither football games or university concerts.
I don’t remember much of what he ever said, though we talked a lot. Rather, when I think of Robby I recall a plethora of his subtle idle movements. He had a deepish voice but a high-pitched laugh. When he laughed a lot he lowered his head and pressed his thumb and middle finger against his eyes. When he wanted to emphasize something that he was talking about he would hold out his hands palm-down and shake them at the important part.
He didn’t have a lot of facial expressions. Most of his reactions were based on changes in the volume of his voice. He somehow looked angry when he ate food. He had a long tuft of hair growing beneath his lower lip, which he would stick in his mouth to kind of chew on when he was listening, resting, or otherwise not speaking.
He lived in Lake Jackson. He explained that the actual lake was private property, and I told him that we should rally a liberation force to free Lake Jackson. After he graduated his phone answering message said something along the lines of, “Hi, this is Robert Metettal. Please hire me.” I probably spelled his last name wrong, but that’s how it was pronounced. I don’t know if anyone ever hired him.