“Can I get two more beers?” Robbie asks, gesturing to Tyler’s glass and his own. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Tyler lifts his hand to protest. “Put them on my tab,” he says to the server. “Nope, I got it,” Robbie insists. He sits up a little taller in his seat and puffs out his chest. I don’t know if he even realized he did it.
