When your RL friends know of certain 'Downers by name and sometimes location though they have no interest in Tolkien or his work, it perhaps goes to show that your hobbies have infiltrated your daily life.
"What do you mean you don't know much about Catholic dogma?" she asked, surprised that she'd asked a random question and I didn't actually know the answer. Brainwave! "Can't you ask that guy? What's his name... the Canadian one. PM him."
"Why do you keep hitting refresh?" she asked in my dorm room, irritated because my mind is on things I've not disclosed, rather than on the conversation I'm almost having with her.
"I'm waiting for a response." I reply simply, irritated that I'm not multi-tasking as efficiently as usual: she actually noticed that I'm doing like ten things at once.
"Oh, did you send that draft to LMP, then?" She figured it out.
"What do you mean mormegil helped get you killed?" she asked in the middle of campus on our way to the post office by way of a large group of lacrosse players. Stares ensued, though perhaps that had more to do with me tripping over my own foot, my flip flop mysteriously flying away, me chasing it, spinning excitedly (due to non-wolvery) and nearly falling over again, all when completely sober. "Oooh, next time you're up against him, you should kill him. What's he thinking. Him and Boro... So what if the Seer dreamt of you! They should have let you live. I was living vicariously through you!"
"You could always register and play." I offered. It would be fun to play a game against someone I'm with every day.
"No!" she responded really quickly. "The phantom would kill me."
"Of course he wouldn't. He hasn't played lately. He's been busy." My logic was infallible.
"Then TORE would. You remember when the two of you almost pulled off that trick in WWJ. He's smart! Or Nogrod would kill me. I'm quiet and nobody knows me. They'd kill me to simplify things." A dean walked by with the president of the school. They politely pretended not to hear.
"Somebody actually bothered debating the existence of good and evil with you? Oh, it was Eomer. Never mind." She rolled her eyes and changed the subject deftly to that paper we should have written while I was busy explaining the non-existence of social constructs.
Maybe I should get a life.