carl@fire

"Oh, I was going to get something delivered," Rebecca said, tilting her head to the side and pressing a finger to the chic over-ear brain link model which Carl knew cost several thousands of dollars. "I have an account on—"

"We've got a ton of leftovers from taco night," Annie reiterated, already retrieving them from the refrigerator.

It was her turn to cook tonight, but Carl had made a colossal amount of supplies for tacos the night prior since he was well aware of his wife's tendency to be more tired than usual on Mondays. Also he was still trying to show his gratitude for Friday night, which had been just what he needed somehow.

Annie really got him, that was for sure.

"The girls love taco night," Carl said, backing his wife.

"But you just had tacos last night," Rebecca said, sounding indignant. "Aren't you tired of them?"

"No, I got a solid seven and a half hours of sleep between then and now," Carl said, deliberately being difficult again. He heard the sound of his incredible, witty, beyond beautiful wife struggling to contain her laughter.

Rebecca put her hands to the sides of her head and let out a noise that was midway between a groan and a wail. "Annie, how do you stand this?"

"She takes regular breaks to sit down," Carl said.

"Girls, dinner's ready!" Carl called. "Taco night part two: also taco night."

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay!" Bobby shouted, drawing out the word as she bounded down the stairs.

Of the two, Bobby was more pro-taco than her sister. She gave him a big hug when she reached the bottom of the stairs, sending him an excited look which was usually reserved for games, then dashed into the kitchen.

It was for precisely this reason that Carl prepared for taco night no more than once a month, ideally once every two months unless something special was coming up. As the principle of scarcity dictated—a principle he was extremely familiar with given that it was a core component of social engineering, which he needed to keep in mind in order to remain vigilant at his job—by keeping taco night as a rare occurrence, its perceived value increased.

"You made extra?" Sammy called down as she raced out of her own room. "Awesome!" She launched one of her flying tackle hugs at him when she got close enough.

Of the two, Bobby was more pro-taco than her sister, but it was only a slight difference.

He followed his eldest daughter into the kitchen.

Annie was carrying over a big tray covered in ground beef with a serving spoon sticking out of it.

Rebecca was already sitting at the table in the empty spot across from his.

Bobby plopped down in a seat next to her while adjusting the cute hairband that kept her hair out of her face. "So what're you doing up here this time, Aunt Becca?"

Carl moved to help transfer the last couple items from the cooking part of the kitchen to the sitting part, gesturing for Annie to have a seat.

"Well," Rebecca began, "I have a meeting on Thursday for work, and then I'm catching up with some friends I haven't seen in a while the rest of the week."

All the items had been brought to the table, so Carl began the process of filling a quartet of glasses with milk. A glass of milk with dinner had been a tradition that Annie and her mom had both kept nearly until she'd moved out to go to college. Now it was a tradition their family kept.

"Annie, take a load off," Rebecca cajoled when he began bringing the glasses over. "Have a drink with me."

"No thanks, it's Monday," Annie said in a polite, deflected refusal.

Since he'd quit drinking, Annie had also stopped—at least at home. She would still have a drink or two on occasion when they went out, as she had on Saturday night when they'd driven over to visit her friend Cheryl. Carl wouldn't have minded if she'd continued to drink at home, but she'd declined, saying she wanted to be as supportive as she could.

Annie was the best.

"Alright, well I brought a little something," Rebecca said in her predictable way, standing up in a manner that tipped her torso forward to present her cleavage to Carl in the way that she knew annoyed him because of how it annoyed Annie. She'd been doing this sort of thing for something like ten years now, and it was really tiresome.

Annie's sister walked out of the room to the den, where she'd apparently left one of her bags, and returned carrying a large bottle.

"Can I try some?" Sammy asked.

Carl sighed. It wasn't that he objected to someone drinking, or a woman drinking, or even his daughter drinking—she could legally drink in most of Europe, after all—but…

"Let me just put that in there," Rebecca said, reaching around Carl's position—and pressing the side of her chest firmly into his side in the process—to place her dish in the sink in front of him. Her hand lingered on his back while she moved away.

Carl sighed as he continued to wash the pans and containers from dinner. He knew this was more of the same; Rebecca was just trying to provoke and annoy Annie in subtle ways. It was childish, and there was no way Annie would—

"Becca, can you give me a hand with the rest of these?" Annie called from the other side of the room, sounding vaguely annoyed.

Carl scrubbed.

"Sure, sis," Rebecca said.

"Aunt Becca, how come you don't stay in the city when you come up here?" asked Sammy. "It's kinda far to have to drive back and forth every day, isn't it?"

Rebecca walked over and gave her seated niece a quick hug from behind. "What, don't tell me you're not happy to see me, Sammy?" she said in a tone that radiated sadness while her face expressed mischief.

"No, it's fun having you around," Sammy quickly backpedaled, potentially as a result of having been allowed to be bribed with a small taste of what was no doubt a very expensive wine earlier. "I… You always show up kinda last minute, so we're always super busy and can't really hang out," Sammy said, watching as her aunt grabbed a small bowl of guacamole and ferried it across the room. "And you said you're here on work. Whenever Dad's gone for work, he always sends us pics of the hotels and they're so expensive with free everything."

His daughter's clumsily-asked question was one that Carl had always wanted to ask and had even hinted around a number of times but never gotten an answer to. Why did Rebecca always stay with them? He'd long suspected the reason was to annoy Annie, but Carl always felt like he was significantly more irritating to her in turn, so she was clearly fighting a losing battle there.

"I, um," Rebecca hesitated, apparently unsure how to reply. She used the time to walk back to the table and retrieve her wine glass. "Well, I just love seeing you all, so why wouldn't I drop by?"

Carl frowned. That seemed out of character for her to say, verging on being an unconditionally positive sentiment.

"We're glad you came," Annie said, sounding at least somewhat sincere. She probably was glad to see her sister in some small way. They might not get along, but—

"You guys should really get a new table," Rebecca said after draining her half-full glass. "How old is this one? You could get one that has a screen in it, or…"

Carl sighed again. It was going to be a long however many days until his obnoxious, bratty sister-in-law left.