"Of course, I named it. Edgar brings drinks from the kitchen to wherever you're sitting. Watch!"
Max taps his phone, and the small robot whirs to life, its lights blinking as it slides off the table onto a ramp and heads determinedly toward the kitchen.
"Should we be concerned?" I ask Leo quietly.
"Probable fire risk: twenty percent. Potential for minor injury: forty-five percent. Entertainment value: priceless," he says without hesitation. "Plus, I've got the extinguisher behind the couch."
I shake my head, grinning, and say hi to everyone else. Luca is typing furiously on his laptop, barely looking up to nod in my direction. Elliot is curled in an armchair, headphones on, eyes closed, probably analyzing a piece of music in his head.
"Where's Haru?" I ask, realizing our Japanese friend isn't here.
"Date," JP says with a smirk.
This gets everyone's attention.
"Date?" Antonio's head snaps up from his laptop. "Haru has a date?"
"Who would willingly sit through Haru's stiff English for a whole evening?" Max asks, genuinely puzzled.
"Jamal Washington," JP says, looking far too pleased with himself. "Football team's quarterback."
"How did that happen?" I ask, surprised. Haru is painfully shy around strangers, and his English becomes very formal when he is nervous.
"Apparently, they bonded over archery," JP explains. "Haru was practicing at the sports complex, Jamal saw him, and the rest is history in the making."
"Good for him," I say, meaning it. Even though we're all extremely awkward around people, we want to date someone. We're just generally terrible at talking to new people.
"So," Luca closes his laptop, giving me his full attention, which is rare. "Family dinner? On a scale of Italian opera to Greek tragedy, how bad was it?"
"Surprisingly interesting," I say, settling onto the couch. "Turns out my mamma has known about medical school all along. She's been researching programs and saving money for my applications."
Everyone's eyebrows raise at that.
"Told you," JP says smugly. "Mothers always know. It's like they have spyware installed in our brains from birth."
"My mother called me last month to remind me to take my allergy medication because she 'had a feeling' I'd forgotten," Leo contributes, briefly emerging from his mathematical trance. "I had forgotten."
"And your father?" Elliot asks quietly, removing one headphone to hear my answer better.
I sigh. "Same as always. When am I joining the family business? Books don't build houses, legacy, tradition, etc."
"Statistical probability of your father accepting your career choice in the next calendar year: seventeen percent," Leo offers.
"That high?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I'm being generous because your mother is on your side. Maternal influence is a significant variable in the equation."
Before I can answer, Edgar the robot comes back from the kitchen, swaying a bit as it rolls over the bumpy floorboards. A single beer bottle sitting on its flat top, looking like it might fall off at any second.
"Success!" Max crows as the robot rolls towards Antonio, stopping with a cheerful beep.
Luca takes the beer with a serious look on his face. "Thank you, Edgar," he says to the robot, which beeps again before turning around.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"Now it should return to its charging station," Max explains.
Instead, Edgar makes a sharp left turn, bumps into a bookshelf, backs up, spins in a circle, and then races at full speed toward the stairs.
