It takes up a lot less space than his drawers or shelves of video tapes, at least. Possibly she's desensitized to his habits; it doesn't merit more than that fleeting laugh. He's an adult, and apparently here on his own.
(Whether that was always the case is a different question.)
Humming thoughtfully she takes the remote-- even that feels futuristic, small and rounded rather than big and boxy-- and inspects it. Not that it has many answers.
She uses the arrows to navigate the rows-- documentaries, which feel uniformly too heavy-- shows she's never heard of; something about a woman in prison, something that looks like a horror movie. She pauses and a preview starts playing, startlingly sharp.
"Choice paralysis," she mutters. Worse than cable. How does anyone get anything done, with this much distraction? She leans over to poke him in the arm with the remote.
"Find us an action movie or something," she demands, with a little smile. It feels normal.
no subject
(Whether that was always the case is a different question.)
Humming thoughtfully she takes the remote-- even that feels futuristic, small and rounded rather than big and boxy-- and inspects it. Not that it has many answers.
She uses the arrows to navigate the rows-- documentaries, which feel uniformly too heavy-- shows she's never heard of; something about a woman in prison, something that looks like a horror movie. She pauses and a preview starts playing, startlingly sharp.
"Choice paralysis," she mutters. Worse than cable. How does anyone get anything done, with this much distraction? She leans over to poke him in the arm with the remote.
"Find us an action movie or something," she demands, with a little smile. It feels normal.