carl@fire

"Pleeeaase?" Bobby begged.

Carl shifted somewhat uncomfortably in the front seat of the car as it sped back towards their house, turning his recently-removed smoke mask over in his hands. He wasn't about to weigh in on this argument, however.

"Sorry, Bobby. Maybe the weekend after," said Annie.

"But Mooom, we're gonna finally be trying the zombie emp—"

"No means no," Annie said firmly.

"Dad, c'mon, you get it, right?" his youngest daughter tried appealing to her less-resistant father.

There was only one case in which Carl would never side with his daughters. In the event that agreeing with Bobby or Sammy would put him at odds with his wife, there was only one sensible side to choose. He and Annie had disagreed a number of times in front of the girls when they'd been younger, but a discussion on the topic had been inevitable, and now they always presented a united front—sometimes to be negotiated in further depth at a later point in private.

This seemed like a time when Carl might consider opening such a discussion, though he played his part. "I don't know, Bobby," he said, "I think your mom's got a point. Didn't you just have a sleepover a couple weeks ago?" He glanced in the mirror, noting that his older daughter had her AR-capable sunglasses on and was likely watching clips of NBA games again with her phone. Or, just as likely, browsing social media and chatting with her basketball teammates.

"Yeah, but that's different," Bobby whined. "Monica finally caught up now, so it's like, the first time all of us are gonna be able to go raiding together."

"Did you already ask your friends?" Annie asked in a too-neutral tone of voice that Carl recognized.

Bobby had a tendency lately to make plans with her friends before getting permission.

It was driving Annie up the—

"Nope, I wanted to be responsible, so I asked you first."

Carl smiled slightly, a smug smile of satisfaction. His lessons were finally—

Annie pinched his leg and gave him a look with both eyebrows raised.

It was at this moment that Carl employed one of his most powerful and high-level skills. He'd honed this technique over many years, practicing it both in front of a mirror and in low-risk test scenarios, such as with his parents when he was much younger. Yes, his skill, experience, and craftsmanship were unparalleled when it came to the finesse with which he utilized this masterful—

"Don't give me that look," Annie said, rolling her eyes in order to deflect his Confused Innocent Stare move, a combination of body language and facial expression which—

"I'll think about it," Annie said, looking up into the mirror to meet her daughter's eyes.

Did Bobby cheer her victory, knowing that she almost always got her way when things happened to progress to this point? Did the thirteen year-old girl grin excitedly at the prospect of being able to have the modern equivalent of a LAN party—sitting around in comfortable chairs, couches, and beds while wearing sleek headbands?

No, of course she didn't.

She was Bobby Weathers, daughter of Carl Weathers, and he'd trained her too well to fall into that same trap that she'd bumbled her way into the last time she managed to "negotiate" her way this far past her mother's defenses.

"Thanks, Mom," Bobby called from the backseat. "I love you."

Carl nodded to himself, his satisfaction growing. Watching his little girls grow up was—

"We need to talk," Annie said quietly, looking at him with an expression that was only slightly amused.

Fuck.