Brennan halted outside the door to the study, too afraid to go in. The muted sound of 80’s hair metal filtered through the study door. As he stood frozen outside the door, his mind raced ahead, running through all the ways this conversation could go disastrously wrong. He was on the verge of fleeing back to his room when the door opened. Dad shuffled out, muttering absently about protons.
“Morning,” he said as he glimpsed Brennan lurking in the hall. “Finally decided to get up?”
“Uh, yeah,” Brennan said, smoothing down his sleep-ruffled hair.
“I’m just on my way to warm up this coffee,” Dad said, brandishing a half-filled mug in the air. “Keep forgetting it’s on my desk.”