"Actually, Vol's great at games," Carl said. "Did you know she's one of the top players in New Era?"

Bobby frowned, looking back and forth between him and Vol. "Really?"

"Rea—Yeah, obviously," Vol said. She reached up and swept a few strands of dark hair away from her eyes. "What sort of game?"

"Well, it's just a racing game I play once in a while. You know, when I'm bored."

Vol stood up, revealing that she was only a couple inches taller than the thirteen year-old. "Alright, could be interesting. I'm not gonna lose though."

"I'm pretty good," Bobby said over her shoulder as she led the way into the den.

Carl got up next, grabbing the empty snack plate and bringing it to the sink while he—

"You know, it's not what I expected," Annie whispered, having followed him.

"Huh?" Carl said, leaning down close and keeping an eye on the doorways so they wouldn't get surprised when someone walked in, since usually they didn't whisper like this unless it was Not For Kids' Ears.

"I mean, it's still weird having her here, but she…fits in? Kind of?"

"Uh… Not really sure what you mean?"

Annie looked over her shoulder towards the den, from where the sounds of talking and video games were emanating. "I…" She chuckled quietly, rubbing a hand up along the side of her head. "I guess I was expecting her to be trying to zap stuff, or talking about… Well, it did get a little weird there—"

"I'll say."

"—but I think she was just trying to make you look good in front of me, which is…sweet of her, I suppose?" she said with a half-grin, half-grimace. "And that juice…"

Carl rubbed his beard as he thought about it again. "Pretty good, isn't it?"

He was absolutely going to get to the bottom of describing its flavor.

There was no way he wasn't going to determine the precise combination of words that could be used to convey the flavor of it, even if doing so would just be for his own satisfaction.

He wasn't going to do it right now though.

"It's…" Annie glanced back at the pitcher on the table. "It's really good. Is it—It's not addictive, is it?"

"Addictive?" Carl thought about it. "Not sure how that'd work?"

"Yeah, maybe that was a little paranoid," she said, shaking her head.

"Hey, what's up with Mina?" Sammy asked as she entered the kitchen.

Annie turned around to face her, and Carl frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"She's in her room just kinda staring off into space," Sammy said. She edged around the corner to peer into the den. "I gave her a hug, and she said she'd be down in a few, but you said she needed help, so…"

"I'll go check," Annie said, beating Carl to it by less than a second, though really he'd been considering whether that was something he should do for Mina or something he'd do for Bobby and Sammy, which had slowed his decision-making process slightly.

Sammy stood in place long enough for Annie to get a hug on her way upstairs before she slipped into the den, seeming intent on watching something.

Carl followed after her, grabbing his half-full cup of juice on the way past. He reached the doorway and surveyed the room.

Vol was in the big armchair, with Bobby in the smaller chair and Sammy on the couch, which was an unusual seating arrangement for the girls.

His youngest daughter's face with pinched in concentration as she drove her car through a series of loops.

Vol…

"How are you even playing like that?" Carl asked.

His friend was draped across the chair, holding the controller with her left hand and using her right to prop her head up. The fingers on her left hand were continuously in action, moving what seemed to be the exact, precise amount needed to pilot her vehicle in a way that narrowly avoided both leaving the track and colliding with any of the walls or barriers.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Huh?" Vol looked over at him, continuing to drive flawlessly without paying attention to the screen. Her car crossed the finish line after rounding a turn, and she was awarded first place as well as a new track record based on her time.

Carl blinked.

"No way," Sammy said in a half-whisper.

Bobby gawked.

"Told you I wasn't gonna lose," Vol said, turning to look back at her opponent.

Sammy was leaning forward on the edge of the cushion. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Vol," said Vol, "Carl's best friend."

Carl wasn't entirely sure how accurate one of those words was—Tim had been his definitive best friend for a really long time, after all, including being the best man at his wedding, his roommate at a couple points, and going to school together for many years with lots of accompanying hanging out time—but he wasn't about to embarrass his friend here by bringing any of that up right now. Regardless of whether she was his best friend, he was the best at being a friend, and they were definitely friends.

"I'm Sammy. That was awesome," Sammy gushed. "How many times have you played this track? Tons, right?"

"Nah, first time," Vol said, waving the controller casually. "Sort of interesting. Didn't expect you to have the same type of screen here," she said, obviously recognizing the new 16k resolution television that Carl had just gotten the year before, its response time and color fidelity unparalleled in the field.

"Okay, but what about this track," Bobby said, selecting what was one of the tougher tracks. "Sammy, you wanna join?"

"Not now," Sammy said.

Carl used the brief downtime to walk through the room and take a seat on the couch, setting his drink down on the table nearby.

The next race began.

"Carl, you, uh, still doing that eating thing?" Vol asked, turning to look at him as her car perfectly maneuvered the first turn.

"Eating thing?" Carl frowned in confusion, both at the question and how she was able to somehow continue to play the game without even looking.

It was starting to feel like he'd really underestimated her gamer abilities.

This must be what a peak-level gamer could do in the current year, and it was pretty cool to see—also he was feeling oddly proud that he was friends with someone who had such an unbelievable level of skill in playing racing games, even if it wasn't necessarily the most useful thing to be this good at.

"Yeah. Uh…" She tilted her head down to look out the bay window on the front wall of the room. "Getting dark out, so…dinner? Family dinner? Is that a thing?"

"Yes?" he said uncertainly, still not sure where she was going with the odd line of questioning.

"Okay, good," Vol said with a nod. "I got food, so let me know when we're eating."

"Uh…" It was seeming to Carl that his friend had just invited herself to dinner, which was usually something he frowned upon—and he was pretty sure Annie would frown upon—but she'd also said that she was providing the dinner she was inviting herself to, which wasn't really something he was used to—and maybe Annie wouldn't frown upon it if it spared her some time that she could put towards something else since she had yoga today—and might actually be pretty awesome considering Vol's usual standards of quality.

His thinking on the matter was further disrupted as the race continued while she stared at him, waiting for a reply, and her hand continued moving the joystick and pressing the buttons at exactly the right time to speed through the track.

It was hard to imagine someone being this good at games, but it was less hard for him to imagine Vol being this good at games. About the only thing that was hard for him to imagine Vol doing, in fact, would be losing at something.

"Well, maybe," he said, not wanting to make this type of decision on Annie's cooking night.

Annie poked her head around the corner of the doorway moments later, just like she usually did when he needed to talk to her about something and they were on the same wavelength on a given day. She made the Can I Talk To You For A Minute gesture, and he got up to head back to the kitchen. Normally he probably would've had to wait for the end of the race to make the trip if it was Sammy sitting in the recliner, but now it didn't seem to matter since Vol was apparently so good that she didn't even have to watch the screen to win.

Times had changed in video games, that was for sure.

"I'm thinking about taking Mina with me to yoga," Annie said quietly when they were both firmly back in the kitchen, crossing her arms. "What do you think?"

He shrugged. "If she wants to?"

"I think it might help her relax," she said with a pensive expression. "She's sort of brooding over something, and maybe with some girl time I can pry it out of her."

Brooding?

Carl didn't like the sound of that.

Brooding was only one step away from moping in his book of being a dad.

"Or maybe she's just adjusting? I don't know," Annie let out an annoyed sigh. "This is a lot harder than I thought it'd be."

He pulled her in for a hug, and she pressed her face into his chest. "It's gonna work," he said into her hair.

"HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!" Bobby shouted from the den.

"Just muscle control," Vol replied, sounding amused.

Carl relaxed his arms, and Annie stepped away.

"Thanks, Carl," she said. Her hand came up to rub his arm, and she smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without you." She tilted her head up and closed her eyes, and he leaned down to give her a kiss.

"I feel the same way," he said after. They stood in place, staring into each others' eyes for another second or two, and then Annie turned back towards the hallway and stairs. "Uh, actually," he began, causing her to turn back and look at him askance—a word she'd just inspired him to recall—in the moment before he continued speaking. "Vol, uh, kinda…sorta…invited herself over for dinner," he said in a low voice. "And she said she'd cover food. But I know you're cooking tonight, and…"

"Works for me," Annie said with a tilt of her head and a shrug of her eyebrows. "I can leave my stuff in the fridge to make tomorrow. It would've been a squeeze tonight anyway with Sammy's game after yoga."

Carl grinned. There had been a moment when he'd had some concern about whether Vol and Annie would get along, but that had obviously been a waste of time to spend thinking about it.

Annie nodded approvingly. "She seems like she's a good fri—"

"Getting bored," Vol declared.