You sorta remind me of a Greyhound bus station. Your lighting is depressing and your walls are an institutional grey. You smell faintly of Fritos and old lady perfume. I think its best if I keep our relationship strictly platonic at best. I much prefer a quiet corner in the library or in the lobby by one of the entrances, or the baby cafe inside the larger cafeteria downstairs. While I appreciate the “support” that you give to many, I will politely decline for now.