He smiles—tiny, genuine. The pixelated glow softens his face.

In the car ride home, the camera shakes slightly—handheld, 480p style. George Sr. glances in the rearview mirror. Sheldon is quiet.

“Clearly,” he says softly. “Neither is being right.”

Sheldon adjusts his glasses. “Billy, I’ve calculated the optimal angle to evade your roundhouse kick. It’s 37 degrees to the left.”