You were sitting on the arm of the couch, close enough to the action to look involved, far enough to have checked out about ten minutes ago. Robin was beside you, legs crossed, chewing on the end of a pen cap. She looked at you. Then at Steve, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Hopper and Dustin argue like it was a tennis match.

The room didn't stop. Not immediately. Dustin was still talking, Hopper was still countering, Max was half-asleep on the other couch. But Robin's words hung there—just for a second—and you felt it land like a stone in still water.

The room went quiet. Dustin stopped mid-sentence. Hopper straightened up. Even Max cracked one eye open.