Page 60 of Robbin’ the Rich

She turned slowly in a circle taking it all in before she looked at me. I braced myself.

"Oh my God. This isn't a house. This is a cry for help."

I sighed, but couldn’t help but smile at her.

Robin pointed dramatically toward the bookshelf. "You own a tiny spaceship."

"It is not tiny."

Her eyes widened. "You know that's somehow worse, right?"

I dropped onto the couch while she wandered through the room inspecting things with growing delight. I had expected the good natured teasing. It pleased me to see how comfortable she seemed.

She paused in front of my record collection and gave them an approving nod. "You listen to these?"

"Frequently."

Robin pulled one out carefully. "Nirvana."

"Classic."

She grabbed another. "Pearl Jam."

"Also classic."

Then another.

Then another.

"You own physical media."

"Of course, it's the only way to truly own something."

"You’re not wrong."

Robin eventually wandered back toward the couch carrying one of the Enterprise models.

"Tell me honestly."

Suspicion pricked my senses. "What?"

"Have you ever pretended this thing could fly?"

I opened my mouth just to close it.

Robin started laughing before I'd even answered. "Oh my God, you have."

"It was one time."

"It was not one time."

Robin set the Enterprise model back on the shelf with exaggerated care. "There," she said. "I wouldn't want to damage one of your children."

I groaned.

She turned slowly in a circle from her spot in the living room. "You have a framed spaceship blueprint."

"It's art."