"Hank! Hank, you are never going to guess what I have in my hand right now."
"I don't have to," Hank told his brother, plucking the envelope out grasp, "It's in my hand, now."
Evan protested and swiped for it, while the older man slid a finger under the flap of the envelope. He looked at Evan in confusion.
"Divya's wedding invitation. Evan, did she give this to you willingly, or did you finagle this out of her?"
"There is nothing wrong with being a finagler, Henry."
Sighing, Hank hopped down from his perch on the counter.
"Evan, this is hard enough for her. Can't you just stop trying to make it worse?"
"Alright, normally Hank? I'd agree with you. But, I really think she wants us to come, she's just shy. She doesn't want to bother us. Poor Divs."
"Shy?" he snorted, "Did you actually just attempt to describe Divya as shy?"
"Okay, so I know that Divya is normally kind of an in your face kind of person, but I'm serious, Hank. I think she really wants us there."
"You're sure?"
Evan hesitated, then nodded.
"Yeah, I'm really sure."
Giving the invitation back to his brother, Hank grinned.
"Fine. Go RSVP."
"Yes!" Evan said, "HankMed finagles its way to London!"
