Philip was about to take another spoonful when the triiiim of a cellphone sliced through the comfortable atmosphere.
Marina — Rosalind, in that world — looked at the screen.
A name lit up the display.
Mac.
The small bubble of peace she had managed to build in the last few minutes burst instantly. She took a deep breath, the kind someone takes when they already know what's coming, and answered.
"Hello?"
Immediately, a blast of loud music, distant laughter, and slurred shouting flooded her ear.
Philip, beside her, frowned as if he could hear the chaos even without being on the call.
"Roooseee!" Mac's voice came out drawn-out, a little too loud, the tone of someone calling a dog. "Come here! Everyone misses you! Charlote said she lost you after what happened this afternoon…"
Philip closed his eyes.
Counted to three in his head.
Failed miserably at hiding his disgust.
Marina held the phone away from her ear, fighting the urge to hang up on him.
"Mac… it's ten at night. I'm already home."
On the other end, he laughed — that clueless, inconsiderate laugh that already announced trouble.
"Ah, but you can come out just a little bit. Charlote's saying you're kinda rude today, hahaha…"
Philip slammed his bowl onto the table so hard the soup shook.
"EXCUSE ME, WHAT?" slipped out of him, outraged.
Marina closed her eyes, exhausted.
"I didn't do anything to her, Mac. Nothing."
"Rooose…" his voice came syrupy, annoying. "Don't ruin the vibe. Just come. We're waiting for you to fix this drama thing…"
Philip opened his mouth, offended — and Marina, quick, hit the speakerphone button before he could say something worse.
Mac's voice boomed out of the phone immediately: loud music in the background, exaggerated laughter, the classic scenario of a "social trap" he loved to set up. It took only seconds for Marina and Philip to notice he was way too sober for this to be spontaneous.
"Mac, Rose and I are catching up after so long, and you wanna drag my… ga— I mean… my childhood friend away like that?" Philip said with a dangerously polite smile. "Dream on."
A brief silence on the other end — just long enough for Mac to adjust his mask. When he spoke again, it was through clenched teeth.
"I thought you said you were home, Rosalind."
Marina rolled her eyes immediately. Philip tilted his head, sarcasm dripping.
"My home, our home… never heard that saying, Mac?" He smiled slowly, almost lazily. "But since you want Rose so badly…"
He looked to Marina — now Marina, not Rosalind — and she understood perfectly, lifting her chin just a single, decisive centimeter.
Philip finished, voice sweet as poison:
"WE are going."
And before Mac could reply, Marina ended the call with a sharp tap.