"Huh," he said.
Behind her, April heard Jax make a small, strangled sound.
"Equipment malfunction," Killian said flatly.
"The ball's not broken," Arthur observed.
"Perhaps the lane—"
"Also not broken."
Killian retrieved his ball from the return with the dignity of a man who'd just had a merger fall through, stepped back up, and rolled again.
This one made it almost to the pins before curving gently into the opposite gutter.
The silence was deafening. The screen still read: KILLIAN: 0.
"Oh my god," Caleb said. "You're bad at this."
"I'm—" Killian stopped. "It's not my primary recreational focus."
"You have a bowling alley in your house," Jax pointed out.
"It came with the house."
"You're terrible," Mateo said, warmth in his voice.
Killian turned to look at April. His composure slipped at the edges. "I'm terrible," he confirmed.
April felt her smile spreading. "You're so terrible."
"Yes."
The game continued. Mateo kept appearing at her elbow with water until Liam's voice cut through: "Mateo. We can all look after April. Enjoy yourself."
Mateo blinked. Looked at the water bottle in his hand. At April. At Liam.
"Point taken."
He set the water down and actually went to bowl his turn instead of immediately returning to host mode.
April caught Liam's eye. He gave her the smallest nod.
A mechanical whir. The guards rose smoothly from both gutters.
"Absolutely not," Killian said.
"Strategically necessary," Arthur said.
"I don't need—"
"You do," Liam added calmly.
Killian looked at April. She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
"This is for the group," Caleb said solemnly. "We can't watch you suffer."
"I'm not suffering—"
