Dinner at the Dunphy house was less like a meal and more like a multi-camera sitcom imploding in real time.
They'd barely made it halfway through the baked ziti before things started unraveling.
"So Elias," Claire began, already halfway into wine-and-protective-mother mode, "where did you move from again?"
"Seattle."
"Big music scene there," she said, pointedly.
Phil cut in with a mouthful of bread. "They've got that coffee chain too. What's it called—Starblast?"
"Starbucks, Phil," Claire sighed.
"I knew it had a dramatic name."
Elias quietly took a bite of salad. Haley hadn't stopped staring at him since he sat down.
"So... do you, like, write music too?" she asked, twirling pasta with dangerous intent.
"Sometimes."
She smiled. "That's hot."
Alex gagged quietly into her water.
"Haley," Claire warned.
"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking."
"No," Alex muttered, "you're saying what you're thinking and assuming everyone else is that shallow."
Haley rolled her eyes. "You're just mad he talks to me."
"He's sitting between us, not proposing marriage."
Elias didn't speak. But he was watching. Closely.
Claire zeroed back in. "So what exactly are your intentions with this project, Elias?"
"Finish it. Get an A."
"I meant with my daughter."
He blinked, slowly. "What do you think they are?"
Phil raised both eyebrows. "Ooh, good counter."
"Phil."
Elias leaned back slightly. His expression calm, even curious.
"I respect Alex," he said.
That silenced the table for a second.
"She's intelligent, direct, and she doesn't waste time pretending to be less capable than she is. That's rare."
Alex froze mid-sip.
Claire's eyes narrowed like she was trying to detect sarcasm with lasers.
Phil smiled like someone had just handed him the Super Bowl trophy.
"Wow," he whispered. "That was... beautifully worded. Did you rehearse that?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Because I want to use that at the next real estate mixer."
"Phil," Claire snapped again, but softer this time.
Elias turned slightly to Alex, who was staring down at her plate like it had just become emotionally complicated.
He offered her a small nod. Subtle. Private.
She didn't look at him.
But she didn't say anything, either.
Not a quip.
Not a rebuttal.
Just silence.
And for Alex Dunphy — that was something.