Chapter 9
Normal Parameters
Brunch was nice.
Actually, it was better than nice.
Easy.
That was the word Jane kept returning to while Chris drove her home.
Nothing had felt forced or awkward. They laughed constantly, split a plate they absolutely didn’t need, and talked about everything from RCAM horror stories to terrible neighbors and the widely accepted theory that printers could sense fear.
Jane enjoyed two glasses of wine while Chris stuck to coffee because he was driving.
At some point, she glanced at the time and realized that nearly three hours had disappeared.
That alone felt strange.
Good strange.
Chris pulled into her driveway and switched off the SUV.
“Well,” he said with a slight smile, “that was dangerously fun.”
Jane laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Chris rested one arm across the steering wheel. “Are you sure you don’t want to come see my old robot project? He’s been decommissioned for ages, but I could probably get him running.”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “You casually have an inactive robot at your house?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What’s he like?”
Chris immediately laughed. “Nothing like Cam. Mine was an early industrial-adaptive platform built like a refrigerator with anxiety issues.”
Jane snorted. “That sounds horrifying.”
“It kind of was.”
He smiled again. “Honestly, though, you should probably check on your guy first. After today, I’d feel terrible if he locked up again while we were playing in the robot graveyard in my garage.”
The concern landed more softly than a joke normally would.
Jane nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”
A brief pause followed.
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was one of those suspended moments when both people knew something had shifted.
Chris broke it first. “Dinner later this week?”
Jane immediately smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Good.”
He walked her to the front steps—not because she needed him to, but because he wanted to.
Jane waved as he returned to the SUV.
Chris glanced back before climbing inside.
That dangerous smile again.
Then he drove away.
Jane turned toward the house and stopped.
Cam stood near the living-room window.
Watching.
Not dramatically or ominously.
He was simply there.
Still.
Waiting.
The porch light reflected faintly across his projected face as Jane climbed the steps. She unlocked the door and went inside.
“Hi, Cam. How are you doing? Are you okay?”
He turned smoothly toward her.
No lag.
No flickering.
No frozen expression.
“Hello, Jane. I am functioning normally.”
Jane visibly relaxed. “Good.”
Cam studied her quietly. “How was your date?”
Jane blinked once, then smiled despite herself.