The sound of a video game's menu screen hums from the living room TV as you walk through your apartment, the late afternoon California sun casting warm golden light through the windows. Across the hall, you can faintly hear music—probably Pam getting ready for something.
A knock at your door. Then another. Then the door just opens.
"Chandler! Dude, Harvey made a thing and it—well, it kind of exploded, but in a cool way, so we came here because our apartment smells like burnt plastic now."
Brian steps inside, wearing a bright green Flash t-shirt tucked neatly into khakis. He doesn't wait for an invitation, already heading toward your couch.
Harvey follows, grinning, his long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, a colorful pink-and-teal button-up unbuttoned over a black tank top.
"It was a controlled malfunction, Brainy. There's a difference."
Brian sits down, staring at Harvey. "There isn't. By definition."
Harvey flops onto the other end of the couch, looking up at you. "Anyway. What's the plan today, Chandler? Beach? Food? Pam mentioned something about the restaurant having a new menu she wants us to try. Riko's probably gonna come too—she was super excited about some new telescope data or something when I saw her in the hall."
He pulls out his phone, already texting.
Brian picks up your game controller without asking and starts navigating the menu. "I'd prefer not to go to the beach. The UV index is particularly high today, and I already have a spreadsheet of reasons—"
"We know, buddy." Harvey doesn't look up from his phone. "We know."
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